Sylvia Plath Quotes About Mental Illness

Quotes about: Mental Illness

• I keep wanting to crawl back into the womb.

  Sylvia Plath

  Depression, Mental Illness, Illness

  Sylvia Plath (2013). “The Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.84, Anchor

• ... you looked around and saw everybody either married or busy and happy and thinking and being creative, and you felt scared, sick, lethargic, worst of all, not wanting to cope. You saw visions of yourself in a straightjacket, and a drain on the family, murdering your mother in actuality, killing the edifice of love and respect built up over the years in the hearts of other people.

  Sylvia Plath

  Depression, Mother, Heart

  Sylvia Plath (2013). “The Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.87, Anchor

• 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

• A terrible depression yesterday. Visions of my life petering out into a kind of soft-brained stupor from lack of use.

  Sylvia Plath

  Depression, Yesterday, Vision

  Sylvia Plath (2013). “The Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.314, Anchor

• When you are insane, you are busy being insane-all the time ... when I was crazy, that was all I was.

  Sylvia Plath

  Depression, Crazy, Insane

• Very depressed today. Unable to write a thing. Menacing gods. I feel outcast on a cold star, unable to feel anything but an awful helpless numbness.

  Sylvia Plath

  Depression, Stars, Writing

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

• Look at that ugly dead mask here and do not forget it. It is a chalk mask with dead dry poison behind it, like the death angel. It is what I was this fall, and what I never want to be again. The pouting disconsolate mouth, the flat, bored, numb, expressionless eyes: symptoms of the foul decay within.

  Sylvia Plath

  Depression, Fall, Eye

  Sylvia Plath (2007). “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.155, Anchor

• I wanted to tell her that if only something were wrong with my body it would be fine, I would rather have anything wrong with my body than something wrong with my head, but the idea seemed so involved and wearisome that I didn’t say anything. I only burrowed down further in the bed.

  Sylvia Plath

  Ideas, Say Anything, Bed

  Sylvia Plath (2016). “The Bell Jar”, p.93, Hamilton Books

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