Quotes by Plath, Sylvia

"Is there no way out of the mind?"

Plath, Sylvia on mind
3 fans of this quote   

"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."

Plath, Sylvia on neurosis   

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

Plath, Sylvia on perspective
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"The blood jet is poetry and there is no stopping it."

Plath, Sylvia on poetry and poets   

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

Plath, Sylvia on sensitivity
6 fans of this quote   

"Widow. The word consumes itself."

Plath, Sylvia on widowhood   

"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."

Plath, Sylvia on colleges and universities   

"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."

Plath, Sylvia on death   

"But life is long. And it is the long run that balances the short flare of interest and passion"

Plath, Sylvia on life   

"I am too pure for you or anyone."

Plath, Sylvia on   

"To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is the bad dream."

Plath, Sylvia on   

"“...I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet. "

Plath, Sylvia on