The silence depressed me. It wasn’t the silence of silence. It was my own silence.
—Sylvia Plath
Topics: Silence
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.
—Sylvia Plath
Topics: Writing
Kiss me and you will see how important I am.
—Sylvia Plath
Topics: Kiss
Widow. The word consumes itself.
—Sylvia Plath
There must be quite a few things that a hot bath won’t cure, but I don’t know many of them.
—Sylvia Plath
Topics: Relaxation, Stress
Is there no way out of the mind?
—Sylvia Plath
Topics: Mind, The Mind
How frail the human heart must be—a mirrored pool of thought…
—Sylvia Plath
Topics: Kindness
Apparently, the most difficult feat for a Cambridge male is to accept a woman not merely as feeling, not merely as thinking, but as managing a complex, vital interweaving of both.
—Sylvia Plath
Topics: Colleges, Universities, Education
I never wanted to get married. The last thing I wanted was infinite security and to be the place an arrow shoots off from. I wanted change and excitement and to shoot off in all directions myself, like the colored arrows from a Fourth of July rocket.
—Sylvia Plath
Topics: Marriage
If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I’m neurotic as hell. I’ll be flying back and forth between one mutually exclusive thing and another for the rest of my days.
—Sylvia Plath
Topics: Mental Illness
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my eyes and all is born again.
—Sylvia Plath
Topics: Perspective
I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart: I am, I am, I am.
—Sylvia Plath
Topics: Self-Discovery
The blood jet is poetry and there is no stopping it.
—Sylvia Plath
Topics: Poets, Poetry
I do not want a plain box, I want a sarcophagus
With tigery stripes, and a face on it
Round as the moon, to stare up.
I want to be looking at them when they come
Picking among the dumb minerals, the roots.
I see them already-the pale, star-distance faces.
Now they are nothing, they are not even babies.
I imagine them without fathers or mothers, like the first gods.
They will wonder if I was important.
—Sylvia Plath
Topics: Death
I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live the loves 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.
—Sylvia Plath
dying is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I’ve a call.
—Sylvia Plath
Topics: Dying, Death
Doing all the little tricky things it takes to grow up, step by step, into an anxious and unsettling world.
—Sylvia Plath
Wondering Whom to Read Next?
Cynthia Ozick American Novelist, Essayist
Joyce Carol Oates American Novelist
Annie Dillard American Writer
Carol Shields Canadian Author, Academic
Charlotte Perkins Gilman American Feminist, Writer
Andre Norton American Science Fiction Writer
Isabel Allende Chilean Novelist
Margaret Mitchell American Novelist
Mark Van Doren American Poet, Critic
Alice Walker American Novelist, Activist