I must not be selfless: develop a sense of self. A solidness that can't be attacked. Sylvia Plath More Quotes by Sylvia Plath More Quotes From Sylvia Plath But life is long. And it is the long run that balances the short flare of interest and passion. Sylvia Plath passion running life I think I may well be a Jew. Sylvia Plath jew may thinking I have done, this year, what I said I would: overcome my fear of facing a blank page day after day, acknowledging myself, in my deepest emotions, a writer, come what may. Sylvia Plath done overcoming years Character is fate. Sylvia Plath fate character 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. Sylvia Plath crush kissing girl Miracles occur, If you dare to call those spasmodic Tricks of radiance miracles. The wait's begun again, The long wait for the angel, For that rare, random descent. Sylvia Plath angel waiting long The lyric abstrusities of Auden ring mystically down the circular canals of my ear and it begins to look like snow. The good gray conservative obliterating snow. Smoothing (in one white lacy euphemism after another) out all the black bleak angular unangelic nauseous ugliness of the blasted sterile world: dry buds, shrunken stone houses, dead vertical moving people all all all go under the great white beguiling wave. And come out transformed. Lose yourself in a numb dumb snow-daubed lattice of crystal and come out pure with the white virginal veneer you never had. Sylvia Plath white weather moving Today is the first of August. It is hot, steamy and wet. It is raining. I am tempted to write a poem. But I remember what it said on one rejection slip: 'After a heavy rainfall, poems titled 'Rain' pour in from across the nation. Sylvia Plath august rain writing If Doctor Nolan asked me for the matches, I would say that I'd thought they were made of candy and had eaten them. Sylvia Plath candy doctors made There I went again, building up a glamorous picture of a man who would love me passionately the minute he met me, and all out of a few prosy nothings. Sylvia Plath bell-jar building-up men I hadn't, at the last moment, felt like washing off the two diagonal lines of dried blood that marked my cheeks. They seemed touching, and rather spectacular, and I thought I would carry them around with me, like the relic of a dead lover, till they wore off of their own accord. Sylvia Plath touching two blood I hurl my heart to halt his pace. Sylvia Plath my-heart pace heart Stars open among the lilies. Are you not blinded by such expressionless sirens? This is the silence of astounded souls. Sylvia Plath silence stars soul The night sky is only a sort of carbon paper, Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars Letting in the light, peephole after peephole--- A bonewhite light, like death, behind all things. Sylvia Plath stars light night It seemed silly to wash one day when I would only have to wash again the next. It made me tired just to think of it. Sylvia Plath tired silly depression I felt myself melting into the shadows like the negative of a person I'd never seen before in my life. Sylvia Plath melting shadow negative I liked looking on at other people in crucial situations. If there was a road accident or a street fight or a baby pickled in a laboratory jar for me to look at, I'd stop and look so hard I never forgot it. Sylvia Plath fighting baby people The more hopeless you were, the further away they hid you. Sylvia Plath hopeless I collect men with interesting names. Sylvia Plath names men interesting The trouble about jumping was that if you didn't pick the right number of stories, you might still be alive when you hit bottom. Sylvia Plath jumping stories numbers
