Sylvia Plath Quotes About Home

Quotes about: Home

• Perhaps some day I'll crawl back home, beaten, defeated. But not as long as I can make stories out of my heartbreak, beauty out of sorrow.

  Sylvia Plath

  Heartbreak, Home, Long

  Sylvia Plath (2007). “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.23, Anchor

• We stayed at home to write, to consolidate our outstretched selves.

  Sylvia Plath

  Life, Home, Writing

• ... stop trying to get me to write about 'decent courageous people' -- read the Ladies' Home Journal for those! ... I believe in going through and facing the worst, not hiding from it.

  Sylvia Plath

  Believe, Home, Writing

  Sylvia Plath, Aurelia Schober Plath (1975). “Letters home: correspondence, 1950-1963”, HarperCollins Publishers

• 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

• In a rabbit-fear I may hurl myself under the wheels of the car because the lights terrify me, and under the dark blind death of wheels I will be safe. I am very tired, very banal, very confused. I do not know who I am tonight. I wanted to walk until I dropped and not complete the inevitable circle of coming home.

  Sylvia Plath

  Confused, Home, Tired

  Sylvia Plath (2007). “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.184, Anchor

• 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

• The first time I saw a fingerbowl was at the home of my benefactress. [...] The water had a few cherry blossoms in it, and I thought it must be some clear sort of Japanese after-dinner soup and ate every bit of it, including the crisp little blossoms.

  Sylvia Plath

  Home, Water, Soup

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

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