Sylvia Plath Quotes About Babies

Quotes about: Babies

• At this rate, I'd be lucky if I wrote a page a day. Then I knew what the problem was. I needed experience. How could I write about life when I'd never had a love affair or a baby or even seen anybody die? A girl I knew had just won a prize for a short story about her adventures among the pygmies in Africa. How could I compete with that sort of thing?

  Sylvia Plath

  Girl, Baby, Writing

  sylvia plath (1971). “the bell jar”

• I do not want a plain box, I want a sarcophagus
  With tigery stripes, and a face on it
  Round as the moon, to stare up.
  I want to be looking at them when they come
  Picking among the dumb minerals, the roots.
  I see them already-the pale, star-distance faces.
  Now they are nothing, they are not even babies.
  I imagine them without fathers or mothers, like the first gods.
  They will wonder if I was important.

  Sylvia Plath

  Mother, Baby, Stars

• A bad dream.To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is the bad dream.A bad dream.I remembered everything.I remembered the cadavers and Doreen and the story of the fig-tree and Marco's diamond and the sailor on the Common and Doctor Gordon's wall-eyed nurse and the broken thermometers and the negro with his two kinds of beans and the twenty pounds I gained on insulin and the rock that bulged between sky and sea like a grey skull.Maybe forgetfulness, like a kind snow, should numb and cover them.But they were part of me. They were my landscape

  Sylvia Plath

  Dream, Baby, Wall

  The Bell Jar ch. 20 (1963)

• You are the one. Solid the spaces lean on, envious. You are the baby in the barn.

  Sylvia Plath

  Baby, Space, Barns

  Sylvia Plath (2010). “Ariel: The Restored Edition”, p.55, Faber & Faber

• Outcast on a cold star, unable to feel anything but an awful helpless numbness. I look down into the warm, earthy world. Into a nest of lovers' beds, baby cribs, meal tables, all the solid commerce of life in this earth, and feel apart, enclosed in a wall of glass.

  Sylvia Plath

  Baby, Stars, Wall

  Sylvia Plath (2000). “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, 1950-1962”, Anchor

• To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is a bad dream.

  Sylvia Plath

  Dream, Baby, Cadavers

  The Bell Jar ch. 20 (1963)

• Please let him come, and give me the resilience & guts to make him respect me, be interested, and not to throw myself at him with loudness or hysterical yelling; calmly, gently, easy baby easy. He is probably strutting the backs among crocuses now with seven Scandinavian mistresses. And I sit, spiderlike, waiting, here, home; Penelope weaving webs of Webster, turning spindles of Tourneur. Oh, he is here; my black marauder; oh hungry hungry. I am so hungry for a big smashing creative burgeoning burdened love: I am here; I wait; and he plays on the banks of the river Cam like a casual faun.

  Sylvia Plath

  Baby, Home, Rivers

• I liked looking on at other people in crucial situations. If there was a road accident or a street fight or a baby pickled in a laboratory jar for me to look at, I'd stop and look so hard I never forgot it.

  Sylvia Plath

  Baby, Fighting, People

  "The Bell Jar".

• What I hate is the thought of being under a man's thumb," I had told Doctor Nolan. "A man doesn't have a worry in the world, while I've got a baby hanging over my head like a big stick, to keep me in line.

  Sylvia Plath

  Baby, Hate, Men

  Sylvia Plath (2016). “The Bell Jar”, p.114, Hamilton Books

• I thought it sounded just like the sort of drug a man would invent. Here was a woman in terrible pain, obviously feeling every bit of it or she wouldn't groan like that, and she would go straight home and start another baby, because the drug would make her forget how bad the pain had been, when all the time, in some secret part of her, that long, blind, doorless and windowless corridor or pain was waiting to open up and shut her in again.

  Sylvia Plath

  Baby, Pain, Home

  Sylvia Plath (2016). “The Bell Jar”, p.35, Hamilton Books

• And I, stepping from this skin Of old bandages, boredoms, old faces Step to you from the black car of Lethe, Pure as a baby.

  Sylvia Plath

  Baby, Boredom, Car

  Sylvia Plath (2010). “Ariel: The Restored Edition”, p.64, Faber & Faber

• My best friends when I was young were always doctors. I used to dress up in a white gauze helmet and go round and see babies born and cadavers cut open. This fascinated me, but I could never bring myself to disciplining myself to the point where I could learn all the details that one has to learn to be a good doctor. This is the sort of opposition: somebody who deals directly with human experiences, is able to cure, to mend, to help, this sort of thing.

  Sylvia Plath

  Baby, Cutting, Doctors

  Source: www.english.illinois.edu

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