Sylvia Plath Quotes — Page 26

Sylvia Plath

Poet, Novelist

Grieving

“I laid my face to the smooth face of the marble and howled my loss into the cold salt rain.”

Loss Rain Salt

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Sylvia Plath

Poet, Novelist

Creative

“I don't know what started me, I just wrote poetry from the time was quite small. I guess I liked nursery rhymes and I guess I thought I could do the same thing. I wrote my first poem, my first published poem, when I was eight-and-a-half years old. It came out in The Boston Traveller and from then on, I suppose, I've been a bit of a professional.”

Years Eight Boston

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Vulnerable

“I suppose I'll always be over-vulnerable, slightly paranoid.”

Chaos Vulnerable

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Confident

“I am made, crudely, for success.”

Made Bell Jar

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Wise

“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.”

Mother Stars Baby

♥ 6

Philosophical

“I believe that one should be able to control and manipulate experiences, even the most terrific, like madness, being tortured, this sort of experience, and one should be able to manipulate these experiences with an informed and an intelligent mini.”

Believe Able Intelligent

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Creative

“Poetry, I feel, is a tyrannical discipline, you've got to go so far, so fast, in such a small space that you've just got to turn away all the peripherals.”

Space Discipline Turns

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Grateful

“A little thing, like children putting flowers in my hair, can fill up the widening cracks in my self-assurance like soothing lanolin.”

Children Flower Hair

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Lonely

“Is to throw together events from my own life, fictionalizing to add color—it’s a pot boiler really, but I think it will show how isolated a person feels when he is suffering a breakdown . . . I’ve tried to picture my world and the people in it as seen through the distorting lens of a bell jar.”

People Thinking Color

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Sad

“This seemed a dreary and wasted life for a girl with fifteen years of straight A's, but I knew that's what marriage was like, because cook and clean and wash was just what Buddy Willard's mother did from morning till night, and she was the wife of a university professor and had been a private school teacher herself.”

Mother Girl Marriage

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Sad

“Maybe forgetfulness, like a kind snow, should numb and cover them. But they were a part of me. They were my landscape.”

Snow Landscape Cadavers

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Sad

“So I began to think maybe it was true that when you were married and had children it was like being brainwashed, and afterward you went about as numb as a slave in a totalitarian state.”

Thinking Children Married

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