Sylvia Plath
Sylvia Plath
Sylvia Plathwas one of the most renowned and influential poets, novelists, and short story writers of the 20th century. Born in Boston, Massachusetts, she studied at Smith College and Newnham College at the University of Cambridge before receiving acclaim as a poet and writer. She was married to fellow poet Ted Hughes from 1956 until they separated in September of 1962. They lived together in the United States and then the United Kingdom and had two children, Frieda and Nicholas...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth27 October 1932
CountryUnited States of America
Not easy to state the change you made. If I'm alive now, I was dead, Though, like a stone, unbothered by it.
I, to you, am lost in the gorgeous errors of flesh.
The sickness rolled through me in great waves. After each wave it would fade away and leave me limp as a wet leaf and shivering all over and then I would feel it rising up in me again, and the glittering white torture chamber tiles under my feet and over my head and all four sides closed in and squeezed me to pieces.
Winter dawn is the color of metal, The trees stiffen into place like burnt nerves.
She looks like a woman who has found it ridiculous to commit herself to a single emotional stance in anything, but must always ride high heavy irony.
I am inhabited by a cry. Nightly it flaps out Looking, with its hooks, for something to love.
And I, stepping from this skin Of old bandages, boredoms, old faces Step to you from the black car of Lethe, Pure as a baby.
I had decided I would put off the novel until I had gone to Europe and had a lover.
My worst habit is my fear & my destructive rationalizing.
Writing, then, was a substitute for myself: if you don't love me, love my writing & love me for my writing. It is also much more: a way of ordering and reordering the chaos of experience.
The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right, White as a knuckle and terribly upset. It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here.
A terrible depression yesterday. Visions of my life petering out into a kind of soft-brained stupor from lack of use.
I was my own woman. The next step was to find the proper sort of man.
I like you, but not too much. I don’t want to like anybody too much.