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
To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is a bad dream.
I didn't know what I was doing in New York.
And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.
The trouble was, I had been inadequate all along, I simply hadn't thought about it.
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.
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.
Character is fate.
The blood jet is poetry and there is no stopping it.
But life is long. And it is the long run that balances the short flare of interest and passion.
I need the reality of other people, work, to fulfill myself. Must never become a mere mother and housewife.
Jealousy can open the blood, it can make black roses.
The tulips are too red...they hurt me.
It is best to meet in a cul-de-sac, A palace of velvet With windows of mirrors. There one is safe, There are no family photographs, No rings through the nose, no cries.
I want to kill myself, to escape from responsiblity, to crawl abjectly back into the womb.