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Sylvia Plath Quotes - Page 13

All Quotes Age Art Bones Chaos Character Children College Cooking Darkness Depression Desire Discipline Doubt Earth Emptiness Fate Fear Feelings Feminism Fighting Giving Gold Happiness Hate Heart Hell Home Hurt Illness Inspirational Joy Kissing Life Loneliness Love Love Life Lying Madness Mask Mental Illness Moon Morning Pain Past Rain Reading Rejection Responsibility Running Sad Sadness Sickness Silence Silver Skins Sleep Soul Spring Summer Understanding Vision Waiting Wall Water Winter Writing

Even amidst fierce flames the golden lotus can be planted.

Even amidst fierce flames the golden lotus can be planted.

Tombstone, Flames, Lotuses

Jealousy can open the blood, it can make black roses.

Blood, Rose, Black

Sylvia Plath (2010). “Ariel: The Restored Edition”, p.189, Faber & Faber

A million years of evolution, Eric said bitterly, and what are we? Animals.

Animal, Years, Eric

Sylvia Plath (2016). “The Bell Jar”, p.42, Hamilton Books

There is so much hurt in this game of searching for a mate, of testing, trying. And you realize suddenly that you forgot it was a game, and turn away in tears.

Inspirational, Hurt, Games

Sylvia Plath (2013). “The Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.15, Anchor

Ironically, Henry James' biography comforts me & I long to make known to him his posthumous reputation he wrote, in pain, gave all his life (which is more than I could think of doing I have Ted, will have children but few friends) & the critics insulted & mocked him, readers didn't read him.

Children, Pain, Thinking

Sylvia Plath (2007). “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.373, Anchor

I want to become acutely aware of all I've taken for granted.

Taken, Want, Granted

Sylvia Plath (2013). “The Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.14, Anchor

I had been alone more than I could have been had I gone by myself.

Gone, Could Have Been, Has Beens

A ring of gold with the sun in it? Lies. Lies and a grief.

Lying, Grief, Gold

Sylvia Plath (2015). “Collected Poems”, p.199, Faber & Faber

I’ll never speak to God again.

Depression, Death, Speak

Sylvia Plath (2011). “Letters Home”, p.43, Faber & Faber

I wish to cry. Yet, I laugh, and my lipstick leaves a red stain like a bloody crescent moon on top of the beer can

Beer, Moon, Laughing

The floor seemed wonderfully solid. It was comforting to know I had fallen and could fall no farther.

Fall, Comforting, Bell Jar

Sylvia Plath (2016). “The Bell Jar”, p.25, Hamilton Books

But they know. They all know. And what am I against so many…?

Knows

Sylvia Plath (2011). “The Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.18, Faber & Faber

The one thing I was good at was winning scholarships and prizes, and that era was coming to an end.

Winning, Eras, Bell Jar

Sylvia Plath (2016). “The Bell Jar”, p.41, Hamilton Books

I have let things slip, a thirty-year~old cargo boat Stubbornly hanging on to my name and address.

Names, Addresses, Hanging On

Sylvia Plath (2010). “Ariel: The Restored Edition”, p.26, Faber & Faber

For me, poetry is an evasion of the real job of writing prose.

Jobs, Real, Writing

The truth comes to me. The truth loves me.

Truth Love

"Fictional character: Sylvia". "Sylvia", www.imdb.com. 2003.

A skeptic, I would ask for consistency first of all.

Consistency, Firsts, Skeptic

Sylvia Plath (2007). “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.120, Anchor

The artist's life nourishes itself on the particular, the concrete.

Inspirational, Artist, Concrete

Sylvia Plath (2013). “The Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.170, Anchor

And so I rehabilitate myself - staying up late this Friday night in spite of vowing to go to bed early, because it is more important to capture moments like this, keen shifts in mood, sudden veering of direction - than to lose it in slumber.

Friday, Night, Important

Sylvia Plath (2007). “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.153, Anchor

As a poet I would say everything should be able to come into a poem but I can't put toothbrushes in a poem. I really can't.

Able, Poet, Should

I am solitary as grass. What is it I miss? Shall I ever find it, whatever it is?

Missing, Grass, Solitary

Sylvia Plath (2010). “Winter Trees”, p.40, Faber & Faber

There ought, I thought, to be a ritual for being born twice - patched, retreaded and approved for the road.

Bell Jar, Born, Ritual

Sylvia Plath (2016). “The Bell Jar”, p.126, Hamilton Books

Strange, when one thinks of all the other boys, infinite experimental kisses, test tube infatuations, crushes, pseudo-loves. All through this physical separation, through the testing and the trying of the others, there has been this peculiar rapport, comradeship, of us two so alike, so similar, but for science-boy and humanities-girl - the introspection, self examination, biannual deep summarizing conversations, and then the platonic parting.

Crush, Girl, Kissing

Joy:show joy & enjoy: then others will be joyful.

Joy, Shows, Joyful

Sylvia Plath (2007). “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.464, Anchor

From the night Buddy Willard kissed me and said I must go out with a lot of boys, he made me feel I was much more sexy and experienced than he was and that everything he did like hugging and kissing and petting was simply what I made him feel like doing out of the blue, he couldn’t help it and didn’t know how it came about. Now I saw he had only been pretending all this time to be so innocent.

Sexy, Kissing, Boys

Sylvia Plath (2008). “The Bell Jar”, p.53, Faber & Faber

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