Everything in life is writable.
SYLVIA PLATHWear your heart on your skin in this life.
More Sylvia Plath Quotes
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Let me live, love and say it well in good sentences.
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Go out and do something. It isn’t your room that’s a prison, it’s yourself.
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I desire the things that will destroy me in the end.
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I felt overstuffed and dull and disappointed, the way I always do the day after Christmas.
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Compared with me, a tree is immortal.
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Every day is precious and I feel infinitely sad at this time melting away from me.
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I hate handing over money to people for doing what I could just as easily do myself, it makes me nervous.
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I am dead to them, even though I once flowered.
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Love is a shadow. How you lie and cry after it
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I felt overstuffed and dull and disappointed, the way I always do the day after Christmas.
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I have a violence in me that is hot as death-blood.
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I knew you’d decide to be all right again.
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Aloneness and selfness are too important to betray for company.
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I didn’t want my picture taken because I was going to cry. I didn’t know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of my throat and I’d cry for a week.
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Love life day by day, color by color, touch by touch.
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Perhaps some day I’ll crawl back home, beaten, defeated. But not as long as I can make stories out of my heartbreak, beauty out of sorrow.
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Don’t let the wicked city get you down.
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I want to write because I have the urge to excel in one medium of translation and expression of life.
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I felt myself melting into the shadows like the negative of a person I’d never seen before in my life.
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What horrifies me most is the idea of being useless: well-educated, brilliantly promising, and fading out into an indifferent middle age.
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I find myself absolutely fulfilled when I have written a poem.
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I like people too much or not at all. I’ve got to go down deep, to fall into people, to really know them.
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I’m sarcastic, skeptical, and sometimes callous because I’m still afraid, deep down, of letting myself be hurt.
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I must get my soul back from you; I am killing my flesh without it.
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I want so obviously, so desperately to be loved, and to be capable of love.
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Love is the bone and sinew of my curse.
SYLVIA PLATH