I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.
SYLVIA PLATHHour by hour, day by day, life becomes possible.
More Sylvia Plath Quotes
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Dying is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well.
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Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.
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We should meet in another life, we should meet in air, me and you.
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So learn about life. Cut yourself a big slice with the silver server, a big slice of pie. Open your eyes. Let life happen.
SYLVIA PLATH -
Sometimes I feel like I’m not solid. I’m hollow. There’s nothing behind my eyes. I’m a negative of a person. All I want is blackness, blackness and silence.
SYLVIA PLATH -
Go out and do something. It isn’t your room that’s a prison, it’s yourself.
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Only I wasn’t steering anything, not even myself.
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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 am dead to them, even though I once flowered.
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Love is the bone and sinew of my curse.
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Cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul.
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Love is a shadow. How you lie and cry after it
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Kiss me, and you will see how important I am.
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Aloneness and selfness are too important to betray for company.
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I want to taste and glory in each day, and never be afraid to experience pain; and never shut myself up in a numb core of nonfeeling, or stop questioning and criticizing life and take the easy way out.
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I am too pure for you or anyone.
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I find myself absolutely fulfilled when I have written a poem.
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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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See, the darkness is leaking from the cracks. I cannot contain it. I cannot contain my life.
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Hour by hour, day by day, life becomes possible.
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I want to be important. By being different. And these girls are all the same.
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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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Everything in life is writable.
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The abstract kills, the concrete saves.
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I felt overstuffed and dull and disappointed, the way I always do the day after Christmas.
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It’s a hell of a responsibility to be yourself. It’s much easier to be somebody else or nobody at all.
SYLVIA PLATH