I have stitched life into me like a rare organ Sylvia Plath More Quotes by Sylvia Plath More Quotes From Sylvia Plath I love the people,' I said. 'I have room in me for love, and for ever so many little lives. Sylvia Plath littles people rooms I wonder about all the roads not taken and am moved to quote Frost...but won't. It is sad to be able only to mouth other poets. I want someone to mouth me. Sylvia Plath frost taken mouths The artist's life nourishes itself on the particular, the concrete. Sylvia Plath concrete artist inspirational 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. Sylvia Plath friday important night I have a violence in me that is hot as death-blood. Sylvia Plath violence hot blood 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. Sylvia Plath poet able should 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 women independent fake-people I hate handing over money to people for doing what I could just as easily do myself, it makes me nervous. Sylvia Plath nervous hate people I thought the most beautiful thing in the world must be shadow. Sylvia Plath shadow beautiful world I suppose if I gave myself the chance I could be an alcoholic. Sylvia Plath alcoholics chance ifs There is something demoralizing about watching two people get more and more crazy about each other, especially when you are the only extra person in the room. It's like watching Paris from an express caboose heading in the opposite direction--every second the city gets smaller and smaller, only you feel it's really you getting smaller and smaller and lonelier and lonelier, rushing away from all those lights and excitement at about a million miles an hour. Sylvia Plath crazy light opposites A dispassionate white sun shone at the summit of the sky. I wanted to hone myself on it till I grew saintly and thin and essential as the blade of a knife. Sylvia Plath knives white sky I want to write because I have the urge to excel in one medium of translation and expression of life. I can't be satisfied with the colossal job of merely living. Oh, no, I must order life in sonnets and sestinas and provide a verbal reflector for my 60-watt lighted head. Sylvia Plath expression writing jobs I felt dull and flat and full of shattered visions. Sylvia Plath shattered vision dull Worse even than your maddening song, your silence. Sylvia Plath silence song Sometimes I feel so stupid and dull and uncreative that I am amazed when people tell me differently. Sylvia Plath stupid dull people As a poet, one lives a bit on air. I always like someone who can teach me something practical. Sylvia Plath teach poet air 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. Sylvia Plath sexy kissing boys Nothing stinks like a pile of unpublished writing, which remark I guess shows I still don't have a pure motive (O it's-such-fun-I-just-can't-stop-who-cares-if-it's-published-or-read) about writing. Sylvia Plath who-cares writing fun I am sending back the key that let me into bluebeard's study; because he would make love to me I am sending back the key; in his eye's darkroom I can see my X-rayed heart, dissected body: I am sending back the key that let me into bluebeard s study. Sylvia Plath eye keys heart
