Sylvia Plath Quotes About Hate

Quotes about: Hate

• 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.

  Sylvia Plath

  Running, Dream, Hate

  Sylvia Plath (2015). “Collected Poems”, Faber & Faber

• We know a thing by its opposite corollary; hot by having experienced cold; good by having decided what is bad; love by hate.

  Sylvia Plath

  Hate, Opposites, Hot

  Sylvia Plath (2007). “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.122, Anchor

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

  Sylvia Plath

  Hate, Necks, Speak

  Sylvia Plath (2017). “Winter Trees”, p.26, Faber & Faber

• I hate handing over money to people for doing what I could just as easily do myself, it makes me nervous.

  Sylvia Plath

  Hate, People, Nervous

  Sylvia Plath (2016). “The Bell Jar”, p.29, Hamilton Books

• …I hate myself for not being able to go downstairs naturally and seek comfort in numbers. I hate myself for having to sit here and be torn between I know not what within me.

  Sylvia Plath

  Hate, Numbers, Comfort

  Sylvia Plath (2013). “The Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.18, Anchor

• 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

• …* to learn that money makes life smooth in some ways, and to feel how tight and threadbare life is if you have too little. * to despise money, which is a farce, mere paper, and to hate what you have to do for it, and yet to long to have it in order to be free from slaving for it. * to yearn toward art, music, ballet and good books, and get them only in tantalizing snatches.

  Sylvia Plath

  Art, Hate, Book

• I hate Technicolor. Everybody in a Technicolor movie seems to feel obliged to wear a lurid costume in each new scene and to stand around like a clotheshorse with a lot of very green trees or very yellow wheat or very blue ocean rolling away for miles and miles in every direction.

  Sylvia Plath

  Hate, Ocean, Blue

  Sylvia Plath (2016). “The Bell Jar”, p.23, Hamilton Books

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