I find myself absolutely fulfilled when I have written a poem.
SYLVIA PLATHI feel terribly vulnerable and ‘not-myself’ when I’m not writing.
More Sylvia Plath Quotes
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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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We must be moving, working, making dreams to run toward; the poverty of life without dreams is too horrible to imagine.
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The abstract kills, the concrete saves.
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Perfection is terrible, it cannot have children.
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I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.
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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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My mother said the cure for thinking too much about yourself was helping somebody who was worse off than you.
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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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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.
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I have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad. Or I can go mad by ricocheting in between.
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And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.
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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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I felt overstuffed and dull and disappointed, the way I always do the day after Christmas.
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I talk to God but the sky is empty.
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One thing, I try to be honest. And what is revealed is often rather hideously unflattering.
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I am what I feel and think and do.
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The silence depressed me. It wasn’t the silence of silence. It was my own silence.
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Love is a shadow. How you lie and cry after it
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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 knew you’d decide to be all right again.
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I have a violence in me that is hot as death-blood.
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Tomorrow is another day toward death.
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Eternity bores me, I never wanted it.
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Compared with me, a tree is immortal.
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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.
SYLVIA PLATH -
I feel terribly vulnerable and ‘not-myself’ when I’m not writing.
SYLVIA PLATH