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Sylvia Plath Quote - I’m sarcastic, skeptical, and sometimes callous because I’m still afraid, deep down, of letting myself be hurt.

I’m sarcastic, skeptical, and sometimes callous because I’m still afraid, deep down, of letting myself be hurt.

Related Topics

Afraid Depression Hurt Myself Sarcastic

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Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

The hardest thing, I think, is to live richly in the present, without letting it be tainted and spoiled out of fear for the future or regret for a badly-managed past.
SYLVIA PLATH

Fear Feminism Future Live Past Present Regret Rich Spoil
The constant struggle in mature life, I think, is to accept the necessity of tragedy and conflict, and not to try to escape to some falsely simple solution which does not include these more somber complexities.
SYLVIA PLATH

Conflict Constant Escape Life Mature Necessary Solution Struggle Tragedy Try
See, the darkness is leaking from the cracks. I cannot contain it. I cannot contain my life.
SYLVIA PLATH

Contain Crack Darkness Leak Life
When you give someone your whole heart and he doesn’t want it, you cannot take it back. It’s gone forever.
SYLVIA PLATH

Broken Heart Forever Giving Gone Heart Love Want
I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life.
SYLVIA PLATH

Experience Feeling Life Live Mental Physical Possible Shade Variation
Love is a shadow. How you lie and cry after it
SYLVIA PLATH

Cry Lie Love Shadow
It is awful to want to go away and to want to go nowhere.
SYLVIA PLATH

Awful Deep Freedom Want
Before I give my body, I must give my thoughts, my mind, my dreams.
SYLVIA PLATH

Body Dreams Feminism Giving Mind Thinking
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.
SYLVIA PLATH

Broken Heart Cry Depression Pain Sad
She stared at her reflection in the glossed shop windows as if to make sure, moment by moment, that she continued to exist.
SYLVIA PLATH

Continue Existence Moments Reflection She Shop Window
Compared with me, a tree is immortal.
SYLVIA PLATH

Comparison Immortal Tree
I feel terribly vulnerable and ‘not-myself’ when I’m not writing.
SYLVIA PLATH

Feeling Terrible Vilnerable Writing
The abstract kills, the concrete saves.
SYLVIA PLATH

Abstract Concrete Kill One Liner Save
What I fear most, I think, is the death of the imagination.
SYLVIA PLATH

Death Depression Fear Imagination Thinking
One thing, I try to be honest. And what is revealed is often rather hideously unflattering.
SYLVIA PLATH

Hide Honesty Reveal Try
The sheets grow heavy as a lecher’s kiss.
SYLVIA PLATH

Growth heavy Kiss

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