Inspirational Quotes by Sylvia Plath — Words of Wisdom for Daily Success

“August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.”

“I don't see,' I said, 'how people stand being old. Your insides all dry up. When you're young you're so self-reliant. You don't even need much religion.”

“Although, I admit, I desire,”

“My flesh winced, in cowardice, from such a death.”

“Not easy to state the change you made.”

“I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted”

“What I fear most, I think, is the death of the imagination. When the sky outside is merely pink, and the rooftops merely black: that photographic mind which paradoxically tells the truth, but the worthless truth, about the world. It is that synthesizing spirit, that "shaping" force, which prolifically sprouts and makes up its own worlds with more inventiveness than God which I desire. If I sit still and don't do anything, the world goes on beating like a slack drum, without meaning. We must be moving, working, making dreams to run toward; the poverty of life without dreams is too horrible to imagine.”

“The human mind is so limited it can only build an arbitrary heaven — and usually the physical comforts they endow it with are naively the kind that can be perceived as we humans perceive — nothing more. No: perhaps I will awake to find myself burning in hell. I think not. I think I will be snuffed out. Black is sleep; black is a fainting spell; and black is death, with no light, no waking.”

“What I fear most, I think, is the death of the imagination.”

“I’ll never speak to God again.”

“The thought that I might kill myself formed in my mind coolly as a tree or a flower.”

“I told him I believed in hell, and that certain people, like me, had to live in hell before they died, to make up for missing out on it after death, since they didn't believe in life after death, and what each person believed happened to him when he died.”

“Dying”

“How can I tell Bob that my happiness streams from having wrenched a piece out of my life, a piece of hurt and beauty, and transformed it to typewritten words on paper? How can he know I am justifying my life, my keen emotions, my feeling, by turning it into print?”

“This is newness: every little tawdry”

“The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right,”

“Love is a shadow.”

“The night sky is only a sort of carbon paper,”

“I am inhabited by a cry.”

“I am solitary as grass. What is it I miss?”

“But writing poems and letters doesn't seem to do much good.”

“I’m so pathetically intense. I just can’t be any other way.”

“Stars open among the lilies.”

“O love, how did you get here?”

“Is it the sea you hear in me,”

“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 blood jet is poetry,”

“I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed”

“LADY LAZARUS”

“I am terrified by this dark thing”

“I?”

“I lean to you, numb as a fossil. Tell me I'm here.”

“I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;”

“I am not cruel —”

“The truth comes to me. The truth loves me.”

“God, who am I?”

“I need a father. I need a mother. I need some older, wiser being to cry to. I talk to God, but the sky is empty.”

“I talk to God but the sky is empty.”

“There is nothing like puking with somebody to make you into old friends.”

“Remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I’ve taken for granted.”

“The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.”