sylvia plath

“kiss me, and you will see how important ı am.” 
..
“ıf you expect nothing from anybody, you’re never disappointed.” 
..
“ı can never read all the books ı want; ı can never be all the people ı want and live all the lives ı want. ı can never train myself in all the skills ı want. and why do ı want? ı want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life. and ı am horribly limited.” 
..
“ı have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad. or ı can go mad by ricocheting in between.” 
..
“perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.” 
..
“the silence depressed me. ıt wasn't the silence of silence. ıt was my own silence.” 
..
"ıs there no way out of the mind?” 
..
“can you understand? someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little? for all my despair, for all my ideals, for all that - ı love life. but it is hard, and ı have so much - so very much to learn.
..
“ı like people too much or not at all.."
..
“ı talk to god but the sky is empty.” 
..
“god, but life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of "parties" with no purpose, despite the false grinning faces we all wear. and when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter - they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long. yes, there is joy, fulfillment and companionship - but the loneliness of the soul in its appalling self-consciousness is horrible and overpowering.” 
..
“we should meet in another life, we should meet in air, me and you.” 
..
“what did my arms do before they held you?” 
..
“how we need another soul to cling to.” 
..
“ı love people. everybody. ı love them, ı think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me. my love's not impersonal yet not wholly subjective either. ı would like to be everyone, a cripple, a dying man, a whore, and then come back to write about my thoughts, my emotions, as that person. but ı am not omniscient. ı have to live my life, and it is the only one ı'll ever have. and you cannot regard your own life with objective curiosity all the time..”
..
“ı desire the things that will destroy me in the end.” 
..
“ı am still so naïve; ı know pretty much what ı like and dislike; but please, don’t ask me who ı am. a passionate, fragmentary girl, maybe?” 
..
“so much working, reading, thinking, living to do! a lifetime is not long enough.” 
..
“ı want to taste and glory in each day, and never be afraid to experience pain; and never shut myself up in a numb core of nonfeeling, or stop questioning and criticizing life and take the easy way out. to learn and think: to think and live; to live and learn: this always, with new insight, new understanding, and new love.” 
..
“ı couldn’t see the point of getting up. ı had nothing to look forward to.”
..
“ı write only because
there is a voice within me
that will not be still” 
..
“ı think ı made you up inside my head.” 
..
“ıs anyone anywhere happy?”

sylvia plath