Сильвия Плат цитаты

страница 6

„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.“

“You walked in, laughing, tears welling confused, mingling in your throat. How can you be so many women to so many people, oh you strange girl?”

“I like you, but not too much. I don’t want to like anybody too much.”

“I had hoped, at my departure, I would feel sure and knowledgeable about everything that lay ahead -- after all, I had been "analyzed." Instead, all I could see were question marks.”

“I am accused. I dream of massacres.
I am a garden of black and red agonies. I drink them,
Hating myself, hating and fearing. And now the
world conceives
Its end and runs toward it, arms held out in love.”

“I sank back in the gray, plush seat and closed my eyes. The air of the bell jar wadded round me and I couldn't stir.”

“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.”

“Worse even
than your maddening
song, your silence." -”

“Perhaps, perhaps this would be the one to pull me out of my plunge.”

“Tomorrow is another day toward death.”

“What have I eaten? Lies and smiles.”

“How could I write about life when I'd never had a love affair or a baby or seen anybody die?”

“I wondered what I thought I was burying.”

“If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell. I'll be flying back and forth between one mutually exclusive thing and another for the rest of my days.”

“Virginia Woolf helps. Her novels make mine possible.”

“Frustrated? Yes. Why? Because it is impossible for me to be God — or the universal woman-and-man — or anything much. I am what I feel and think and do. I want to express my being as fully as I can because I somewhere picked up the idea that I could justify my being alive that way.”

“With me, the present is forever, and forever is always shifting, flowing, melting. This second is life. And when it is gone it is dead. But you can't start over with each new second. You have to judge by what is dead. It's like quicksand… hopeless from the start.”

“I never feel so much myself as when I'm in a hot bath.”

“This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary.
The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue.”

“I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”

“Don't talk to me about the world needing cheerful stuff! What the person out of Belsen — physical or psychological — wants is nobody saying the birdies still go tweet-tweet, but the full knowledge that somebody else has been there and knows the worst, just what it is like.”

“And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.”

“I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery—air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, "This is what it is to be happy.”

“When they asked me what I wanted to be I said I didn’t know.
"Oh, sure you know," the photographer said.
"She wants," said Jay Cee wittily, "to be everything.”

“I was supposed to be having the time of my life.”

“I wonder why I don't go to bed and go to sleep. But then it would be tomorrow, so I decide that no matter how tired, no matter how incoherent I am, I can skip on hour more of sleep and live.”

“What did my arms do before they held you?”

“There must be quite a few things a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them.”

“Living with him is like being told a perpetual story: his mind is the biggest, most imaginative I have ever met. I could live in its growing countries forever.”

“I think I made you up inside my head.”