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Sylvia Plath Quotes about Pain

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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

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.

Sylvia Plath
Pain, Thinking, Understanding
Sylvia Plath, Ted Hughes, Frances Monson McCullough (1991). “The journals of Sylvia Plath”

The blood of love welled up in my heart with a slow pain.

Sylvia Plath
Pain, Heart, Blood
Sylvia Plath (2007). “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.18, Anchor

Let's face it: I'm scared, scared and frozen. First, I guess, I'm afraid for myself ... the old primitive urge for survival. It's getting so I live every moment with terrible intensity. Last night, driving back from Boston, I lay back in the car and let the colored lights come at me, the music from the radio, the reflection of the guy driving. It all flowed over me with a screaming ache of pain ... remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I've taken for granted. When you feel that this may be the good-bye, the last time, it hits you harder.

Sylvia Plath
Pain, Taken, Bye

I am sure there are things that can't be cured by a good bath but I can't think of one.

Sylvia Plath
Pain, Thinking, Baths

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.

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

I thought it sounded just like the sort of drug a man would invent. Here was a woman in terrible pain, obviously feeling every bit of it or she wouldn't groan like that, and she would go straight home and start another baby, because the drug would make her forget how bad the pain had been, when all the time, in some secret part of her, that long, blind, doorless and windowless corridor or pain was waiting to open up and shut her in again.

Sylvia Plath
Baby, Pain, Home
Sylvia Plath (2016). “The Bell Jar”, p.35, Hamilton Books

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