What horrifies me most is the idea of being useless: well-educated, brilliantly promising, and fading out into an indifferent middle age.
SYLVIA PLATHI want to write because I have the urge to excel in one medium of translation and expression of life.
More Sylvia Plath Quotes
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Let me live, love and say it well in good sentences.
SYLVIA PLATH -
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 -
There is nothing like puking with somebody to make you into old friends.
SYLVIA PLATH -
Before I give my body, I must give my thoughts, my mind, my dreams.
SYLVIA PLATH -
I am dead to them, even though I once flowered.
SYLVIA PLATH -
I feel terribly vulnerable and ‘not-myself’ when I’m not writing.
SYLVIA PLATH -
Please, I want so badly for the good things to happen.
SYLVIA PLATH -
The abstract kills, the concrete saves.
SYLVIA PLATH -
I am not cruel, only truthful.
SYLVIA PLATH -
I knew you’d decide to be all right again.
SYLVIA PLATH -
Eternity bores me, I never wanted it.
SYLVIA PLATH -
Every day is precious and I feel infinitely sad at this time melting away from me.
SYLVIA PLATH -
After all, we are nothing more or less than we choose to reveal.
SYLVIA PLATH -
I want so obviously, so desperately to be loved, and to be capable of love.
SYLVIA PLATH -
Cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul.
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People or stars Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.
SYLVIA PLATH -
I desire the things that will destroy me in the end.
SYLVIA PLATH -
There is a certain unique and strange delight about walking down an empty street alone.
SYLVIA PLATH -
I don’t care about anyone, and the feeling is quite obviously mutual.
SYLVIA PLATH -
Kiss me, and you will see how important I am.
SYLVIA PLATH -
I felt overstuffed and dull and disappointed, the way I always do the day after Christmas.
SYLVIA PLATH -
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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The truth comes to me. The truth loves me.
SYLVIA PLATH -
I want to write because I have the urge to excel in one medium of translation and expression of life.
SYLVIA PLATH -
Everything in life is writable.
SYLVIA PLATH -
Love is a shadow. How you lie and cry after it
SYLVIA PLATH