Sylvia Plath Quotes

I desire the things which will destroy me in the end.

The silence depressed me. It wasn’t the silence of silence. It was my own silence.

I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.

I am afraid of getting older. I am afraid of getting married. Spare me from cooking three meals a day—spare me from the relentless cage of routine and rote.

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. To learn and think: to think and live; to live and learn: this always, with new insight, new understanding, and new love.

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.

If you expect nothing from somebody you are never disappointed.

I talk to God but the sky is empty.

How frail the human heart must be – a mirrored pool of thought.

Nothing stinks like a pile of unpublished writing.

I love people. Everybody. I love them, I think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me.

I have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad. Or I can go mad by ricocheting in between.

I want to taste and glory in each day.

Sylvia Plath Quotes part 2

I felt like a racehorse in a world without racetracks or a champion college footballer suddenly confronted by Wall Street and a business suit, his days of glory shrunk to a little gold cup on his mantel with a date engraved on it like the date on a tombstone.

I love my rejection slips. They show me I try.

I think writers are the most narcissistic people. Well, I mustn’t say this, I like many of them, a great many of my friends are writers. But you know, they’re wonderful people, but I am a kind of detached writer.

I like people too much or not at all. I’ve got to go down deep, to fall into people, to really know them.

I don’t know. I don’t care. And it doesn’t make any difference.

I desire the things that will destroy me in the end.

I must get my soul back from you; I am killing my flesh without it.

The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.

I am too pure for you or anyone.

Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.

I shall be famous one day, but I’d rather be alive.

I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me.

Dying is an art. Like everything else, I do it exceptionally well.

Why can’t I try on different lives, like dresses, to see which fits best and is more becoming?

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.

I like people too much or not at all. I’ve got to go down deep, to fall into people, to really know them.

I could extinguish myself in you; marry me, I will be faithful.

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my eyes and all is born again.

I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.

I must get my soul back from you; I am killing my flesh without it.

I love people. Everybody. I love them, I think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me.

I desire the things which will destroy me in the end.

I like people too much or not at all. I’ve got to go down deep, to fall into people, to really know them.

I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life. And I am horribly limited.

I feel so tired, I want to sleep for a thousand years, and wake up a different person.

I like people. I like people very much.

I love to live and live to love.