Сильвия Плат цитаты

страница 4

„Если бы я не думала, я была бы куда счастливей. Если бы у меня не было гениталий, я не была бы все время на взводе от нервов и слез.“

„Я глубоко вздохнул и слушал старое сердце моего сердца: я. Я здесь Я есть.“

„Это просто куколка, это так хорошо на вид,
Это умеет шить, жарить и варить,
И конечно, говорить, говорить, говорить.
С этим все в порядке, в этом напрасно искать изъян.
Это — пластырь для всех твоих ран.
Это — образ для твоих глаз.
Мой мальчик, это твой последний шанс.
Ступай с этим под венец, под венец, под венец.“

„Я закрываю глаза и весь мир умирает; я открываю глаза и всё снова оживает.“

„Ничто не издаёт такой вони, как стопка неопубликованных рукописей.“

„Возможно, когда мы понимаем, что хотим иметь всё, это потому что мы остро чувствуем, что скоро мы не захотим иметь ничего.“

„Неужели от разума никуда не деться?“

„Нет ничего лучше, чем дразнить кого-то, чтобы стать ему закадычным другом.“

„Никто не источает зловоние так же сильно, как куча неопубликованных рукописей.“

“I am jealous of those who think more deeply, who write better, who draw better, who ski better, who look better, who live better, who love better than I.”

“I felt myself melting into the shadows like the negative of a person I'd never seen before in my life.”

“How did I know that someday — at college, in Europe, somewhere, anywhere — the bell jar, with its stifling distortions, wouldn’t descend again?”

“Why the hell are we conditioned into the smooth strawberry-and-cream Mother-Goose-world, Alice-in-Wonderland fable, only to be broken on the wheel as we grow older and become aware of ourselves as individuals with a dull responsibility in life?”

“Whenever I'm sad I'm going to die, or so nervous I can't sleep, or in love with somebody I won't be seeing for a week, I slump down just so far and then I say: 'I'll go take a hot bath.”

“I must learn more about these people―try to understand them, put myself in their place. No, instead I am so busy keeping my head above water that I scarcely know who I am, much less who anyone else is.”

“All I want is blackness. Blackness and silence.”

“I must be lean & write & make worlds beside this to live in.”

“Mother of otherness,
Eat me.”

“I buried my head under the darkness of the pillow and pretended it was night. I couldn't see the point of getting up. I had nothing to look forward to.”

“The more hopeless you were, the further away they hid you.”

“I’ll never speak to God again.”

“I wanted to crawl in between those black lines of print, the way you crawl through a fence, and go to sleep under that beautiful big green fig-tree.”

“Maybe forgetfulness, like a kind snow, should numb and cover them. But they were a part of me. They were my landscape.”

“Now I am silent, hate
Up to my neck,
Thick, thick.
I do not speak.”

“The only reason I remembered this play was because it had a mad person in it, and everything I had ever read about mad people stuck in my mind, while everything else flew out.”

“Now I know what loneliness is, I think. Momentary loneliness, anyway. It comes from a vague core of the self - - like a disease of the blood, dispersed throughout the body so that one cannot locate the matrix, the spot of contagion.”

“And I sit here without identity: faceless. My head aches.”

“Very few people do this any more. It's too risky. First of all, it's a hell of a responsibility to be yourself. It's much easier to be somebody else or nobody at all.”

“I started adding up all the things I couldn't do.”

“There is a charge

For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart -
It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge,
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.”

“Why can’t I try on different lives, like dresses, to see which fits best and is more becoming?”

“I wanted change and excitement and to shoot off in all directions myself, like the colored arrows from a Fourth of July rocket.”

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

“That afternoon my mother had brought me the roses.
"Save them for my funeral," I'd said.”

“It is as if my life were magically run by two electric currents: joyous positive and despairing negative--which ever is running at the moment dominates my life, floods it.”

“The silence drew off, baring the pebbles and shells and all the tatty wreckage of my life.”

“I wish you’d find the exit out of my head.”

“The slime of all my yesterdays rots in the hollow of my skull.”