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"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?"
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"There are poets,there are philosophers, there are spiritualists and me. I try to foot the bill of these mighty three."
"The word in your mouth is anarchy."
"My task, which I am trying to achieve is, by the power of the written word, to make you hear, to make you feel--it is, before all, to make you see."
"And the poem, I think, is only your voice speaking."
"I've given offense by saying I'd as soon write free verse as play tennis with the net down."
"Words make known. But we live in the unknown."
"There are many things which can not be expressed by words. There are many words which can not be spelled by human tongue. There are many tongues which utter one single truth."
"Hunger is a wayOf standing outside windowsThe entering takes away."
"Neither Aristotelian nor Russellian rules give the exact logic of any expression of ordinary language; for ordinary language has no exact logic."
Explore more quotes by Sylvia Plath
"I don't know how long I kept at it...I felt reasonably safe, streched out on the floor, and lay quite still.It didn't seem to be summer any more."
"So I began to think maybe it was true that when you were married and had children it was like being brainwashed, and afterward you went about as numb as a slave in a totalitarian state."
"The future is what matters - because one never reaches it, but always stays in the present - like the White Queen who had to run like the wind to remain in the same spot."
"Brave love, dreamnot of staunching such strict flame, but come,lean to my wound; burn on, burn on."
"Poppies in JulyLittle poppies, little hell flames,Do you do no harm?You flicker. I cannot touch you.I put my hands among the flames. Nothing burns.And it exhausts me to watch youFlickering like that, wrinkly and clear red, like the skin of a mouth.A mouth just bloodied.Little bloody skirts!There are fumes that I cannot touch.Where are your opiates, your nauseous capsules?If I could bleed, or sleep!If my mouth could marry a hurt like that!Or your liquors seep to me, in this glass capsule,Dulling and stilling.But colorless. Colorless."
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