Tomorrow is another day toward death.
SYLVIA PLATHKiss me, and you will see how important I am.
More Sylvia Plath Quotes
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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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I must get my soul back from you; I am killing my flesh without it.
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I am too pure for you or anyone.
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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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After all, we are nothing more or less than we choose to reveal.
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There is a certain unique and strange delight about walking down an empty street alone.
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I love life. But it is hard and I have so much, so very much to learn.
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Perfection is terrible, it cannot have children.
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Intoxicated with madness, I’m in love with my sadness.
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Hour by hour, day by day, life becomes possible.
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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 have a violence in me that is hot as death-blood.
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I want to be important. By being different. And these girls are all the same.
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I find that in a novel I can get more of life, perhaps not such intense life, but certainly more of life than in poetry.
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Cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul.
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I felt wise and cynical as all hell.
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I have never found anybody who could stand to accept the daily demonstrative love I feel in me, and give back as good as I give.
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I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my eyes and all is born again.
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If you expect nothing from somebody you are never disappointed.
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I desire the things that will destroy me in the end.
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I don’t care about anyone, and the feeling is quite obviously mutual.
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I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery – air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, This is what it is to be happy.
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I find myself absolutely fulfilled when I have written a poem.
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The silence depressed me. It wasn’t the silence of silence. It was my own silence.
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I am dead to them, even though I once flowered.
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I have stitched life into me like a rare organ.
SYLVIA PLATH