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
I may never be happy, but tonight I am content. Nothing more than an empty house, the warm hazy weariness from a day spent setting strawberry runners in the sun, a glass of cool sweet milk, and a shallow dish of blueberries bathed in cream. When one is so tired at the end of a day one must sleep, and at the next dawn there are more strawberry runners to set, and so one goes on living, near the earth. At times like this I'd call myself a fool to ask for more...
The floor seemed wonderfully solid. It was comforting to know I had fallen and could fall no farther.
Worse even than your maddening song, your silence.
After all, we are nothing more or less than we choose to reveal.
I like people too much or not at all.
The truth comes to me. The truth loves me.
So, now I shall talk every night. To myself. To the moon. I shall walk, as I did tonight, jealous of my loneliness, in the blue-silver of the cold moon, shining brilliantly on the drifts of fresh-fallen snow, with the myriad sparkles. I talk to myself and look at the dark trees, blessedly neutral. So much easier than facing people, than having to look happy, invulnerable, clever.
All I want is blackness. Blackness and silence.
I must not be selfless: develop a sense of self. A solidness that can't be attacked.
So learn about life. Cut yourself a big slice with the silver server, a big slice of pie. Open your eyes. Let life happen.
Clouds pass and disperse. Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables? Is it for such I agitate my heart?
How can you be so many women to so many strange people, oh you strange girl?
I like people too much or not at all. I've got to go down deep, to fall into people, to really know them.
I was supposed to be having the time of my life.