Frases de Sylvia Plath

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“Morrer é uma arte, como tudo o mais. Que eu pratico surpreendentemente bem.”

“Para a pessoa dentro da redoma de vidro, vazia e imóvel como um bebê morto, o mundo inteiro é um sonho ruim.”

“Ninguém no caminho, e nada, nada a não ser amoras”

“Respirei fundo e escutei o velho e orgulhoso som do meu coração. Eu sou, eu sou, eu sou.”

“Talvez quando nos encontramos querendo tudo, é porque estamos perigosamente perto de não querer nada.”

“Eu fecho meus olhos e o mundo inteiro morre subitamente; eu abro meu olhos e tudo nasce novamente.”

“Nada melhor do que vomitar com outra pessoa para ganhar intimidade”

“Também lembrei de Buddy Williard dizendo com uma voz sinistra e sabichona que depois que tivéssemos filhos eu me sentiria diferente e não mais teria vontade de escrever poemas. E me ocorreu que talvez fosse verdade aquela história de que casar e ter filhos era como passar por uma lavagem cerebral, e que depois eu que você ficava inerte feito um escravo num pequeno estado totalitário.”

“Se eu nunca aprendesse, nunca teria que colocar aquilo em prática.”

“Nossos sonhos podem obscurecer as linhas intransigentes que desenham os contornos que nos aprisionam?”

“deixa-me viver, amar e dizê-lo bem em boas frases”

“Senti meus pulmões inflarem com a paisagem - ar, montanhas, árvores, pessoas. Eu pensei: "Isto é o que é ser feliz.”

“Devemos nos encontrar em outra vida, devemos nos encontrar no ar, eu e você.”

“Não há saída para fora da mente?”

“It never occurred to me to say no.”

“The bell jar hung, suspended, a few feet above my head. I was open to the circulating air.”

“God, who am I?”

“To learn and think; to think and live; to live and learn: this always, with new insight, new understanding, and new love.”

“Don't let the wicked city get you down.”

“Love is a shadow.
How you lie and cry after it”

“I am I am I am.”

“I hate handing over money to people for doing what I could just as easily do myself, it makes me nervous.”

“God, is this all it is, the ricocheting down the corridor of laughter and tears? Of self-worship and self-loathing? Of glory and disgust?”

“I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life.”

“A ring of gold with the sun in it?
Lies. Lies and a grief.”

“Compared with me, a tree is immortal.”

“Ready for a new life”

“The night sky is only a sort of carbon paper,
Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars
Letting in the light, peephole after peephole---
A bonewhite light, like death, behind all things.”

“You cannot regard your own life with objective curiosity all the time…”

“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.”

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

“I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly, as the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands. I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.”

“The sun gives you ulcers, the wind gives you T. B.
Once you were beautiful.”

“I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.

--From the poem "Mad Girl's Love Song”

“I want to talk to everybody I can as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night.”

“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.”

“I cut you out because I couldn't stand being a passing fancy.”

“Go out and do something. It isn’t your room that’s a prison, it’s yourself.”

“Oh what a poet I will flay myself into.”

“A dispassionate white sun shone at the summit of the sky. I wanted to hone myself on it till I grew saintly and thin and essential as the blade of a knife.”

“If only I can find him… the man who will be intelligent, yet physically magnetic and personable. If I can offer that combination, why shouldn't I expect it in a man?”

“It is raining. I am tempted to write a poem. But I remember what it said on one rejection slip: After a heavy rainfall, poems titled RAIN pour in from across the nation.”

“A million years of evolution, Eric said bitterly, and what are we? Animals.”