Sylvia Plath Quotes About Hell

Quotes about: Hell

• If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell.

  Sylvia Plath

  Two, Neurosis, Hell

  The Bell Jar ch. 8 (1963)

• 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?

  Sylvia Plath

  Inspirational, Mother, Responsibility

  Sylvia Plath (2007). “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.35, Anchor

• It's a hell of a responsibility to be yourself. It's much easier to be somebody else or nobody at all.

  Sylvia Plath

  Being Yourself, Responsibility, Hell

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

• Pretty soon, the only doubt in my mind was the precise time and method of committing suicide. The only alternative I could see was an eternity of hell for the rest of my life in a mental hospital, and I was going to use my last ounce of free choice and choose a quick clean ending.

  Sylvia Plath

  Suicide, Choices, Doubt

  Sylvia Plath (2011). “Letters Home”, p.197, Faber & Faber

• I am afraid. I am not solid, but hollow. I feel behind my eyes a numb, paralyzed cavern, a pit of hell, a mimicking nothingness.

  Sylvia Plath

  Eye, Feminism, Pits

  Sylvia Plath (2013). “The Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.60, Anchor

• The first time it happened I was ten.
  It was an accident.
  
  The second time I meant
  To last it out and not come back at all.
  I rocked shut
  
  As a seashell.
  They had to call and call
  And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.
  
  Dying
  Is an art, like everything else.
  I do it exceptionally well.
  
  I do it so it feels like hell.
  I do it so it feels real.
  I guess you could say I've a call.

  Sylvia Plath

  Art, Real, Suicidal

  "Lady Lazarus" l. 43 (1963)

• Tomorrow I will curse the dawn, but there will be other, earlier nights, and the dawns will be no longer hell laid out in alarms and raw bells and sirens.

  Sylvia Plath

  Depression, Night, Dawn

  Sylvia Plath (2013). “The Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.66, Anchor

• You have lost all delight in life. Ahead is a large array of blind alleys. You are half-deliberately, half-desperately cutting off your grip on creative life. You are becoming a neuter machine. You cannot love, even if you knew how to begin to love. Every thought is a devil, a hell-if you could do a lot of things over again, ah, how differently you would do them! You want to go home, back to the womb. You watch the world bang door after door in your face, numbly, bitterly. You have forgotten the secret you knew, once, ah, once, of being joyous, of laughing, of opening doors.

  Sylvia Plath

  Depression, Home, Cutting

  Sylvia Plath (2013). “The Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.67, Anchor

• I felt wise and cynical as all hell.

  Sylvia Plath

  Wise, Cynical, Hell

  Sylvia Plath (2016). “The Bell Jar”, p.6, Hamilton Books

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