American - Poet | October 27, 1932 - February 11, 1963
A baby! I hated babies. I, who for two and a half years had been the center of a tender universe, felt the axis wrench and a polar chill immobilize my bones. I would be a bystander, a museum mammoth.
Sylvia Plath
BabyChillUniverseMuseumTwoHalf
I want to live and feel all the shades, tones, and variations of mental and physical experience possible in my life. And I am horribly limited.
LifeLiveExperienceI AmMy Life
I remember that as I was writing a poem on 'Snow' when I was eight, I said aloud, 'I wish I could have the ability to write down the feelings I have now when I am little, because when I grow up, I will know how to write, but I will have forgotten what being little feels like.'
SnowI AmWritingGrowWishDown
There is so much hurt in this game of searching for a mate, of testing, trying. And you realize suddenly that you forgot it was a game, and turn away in tears.
TearsGameHurtTryingYouTurn
Excellent teachers showered on to us like meteors: Biology teachers holding up human brains, English teachers inspiring us with a personal ideological fierceness about Tolstoy and Plato, Art teachers leading us through the slums of Boston, then back to the easel to hurl public school gouache with social awareness and fury.
ArtSchoolBackBiologyPersonalUp
I love people. Everybody. I love them, I think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me.
LovePeopleMeStoryThinkRaw
When you are insane, you are busy being insane - all the time.
TimeBusyYouBeingInsane
How we need another soul to cling to.
SoulNeedHowAnotherCling
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.
ArtHellYouSayDyingEverything
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.
TimeFlyingRestHellBackSame
Now and then, when I grow nostalgic about my ocean childhood - the wauling of gulls and the smell of salt, somebody solicitous will bundle me into a car and drive me to the nearest briny horizon.
CarOceanChildhoodMeDriveGrow
But life is long. And it is the long run that balances the short flare of interest and passion.
LifePassionWisdomShortLongRun
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