How frail the human heart must be―a mirrored pool of thought.

— Sylvia Plath

How we need another soul to cling to.

— Sylvia Plath

How we need another soul to cling to, another body to keep us warm. To rest and trust; to give your soul in confidence: I need this, I need someone to pour myself into.

— Sylvia Plath

How we need that security. How we need another soul to cling to, another body to keep us warm. To rest and trust; to give your soul in confidence: I need this. I need someone to pour myself into.

— Sylvia Plath

Hurl yourself at goals above your head and bear the lacerations that come when you slip and make a fool of yourself. Always Try, as long as you have breath in your body, to take the hard way–and work, work, work to build yourself into a rich, continually evolving entity.

— Sylvia Plath

I also had a dim idea that if I walked the streets of New York by myself all night something of the city's mystery and magnificence might rub off on me at last. But I gave it up.

— Sylvia Plath

I also remembered Buddy Willard saying in a sinister, knowing way that after Had children I would feel differently, I wouldn't want to write poems anymore. 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 numb as a slave in some private, totalitarian state.

— Sylvia Plath

I am drowning in negativism, self-hate, doubt, madness - and even I am not strong enough to deny the routine, the rote, to simplify. No, I go plodding on, afraid that the blank hell in back of my eyes will break through, spewing forth like a dark pestilence; afraid that the disease which eats away the pith of my body with merciless personality will break forth in obvious sores and warts, screaming "Traitor, sinner, imposter.

— Sylvia Plath

I am helpless as the sea at the end of her string. I am restless. Restless and useless. I, too, create corpses.

— Sylvia Plath

I am inhabited by a cry. Nightly it flaps out Looking, with its hooks, for something to love.

— Sylvia Plath