Sylvia Plath Quotes About Sleep

Quotes about: Sleep

• Yes, my consuming desire is to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, barroom regulars - to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording - all this is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always supposedly in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce them, or as an invitation to intimacy. Yes, God, I want to talk to everybody as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night.

  Sylvia Plath

  Girl, Sleep, Men

• I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night.

  Sylvia Plath

  Sleep, Night, Want

  Sylvia Plath (2013). “The Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.30, Anchor

• I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me.

  Sylvia Plath

  Sleep, Dark, Dark Things

  Sylvia Plath (2010). “Ariel: The Restored Edition”, p.35, Faber & Faber

• I may never be happy, but tonight I am content. Nothing more than an empty house, the warm hazy weariness from a day spent setting strawberry runners in the sun, a glass of cool sweet milk, and a shallow dish of blueberries bathed in cream. When one is so tired at the end of a day one must sleep, and at the next dawn there are more strawberry runners to set, and so one goes on living, near the earth. At times like this I'd call myself a fool to ask for more.

  Sylvia Plath

  Happiness, Sweet, Tired

  Sylvia Plath (2013). “The Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.3, Anchor

• I wonder why I don't go to bed and go to sleep. But then it would be tomorrow, so I decide that no matter how tired, no matter how incoherent I am, I can skip on hour more of sleep and live.

  Sylvia Plath

  Life, Sleep, Tired

  Sylvia Plath (2007). “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.83, Anchor

• I saw the days of the year stretching ahead like a series of bright, white boxes, and separating one box from another was sleep, like a black shade. Only for me, the long perspective of shades that set off one box from the next day had suddenly snapped up, and I could see day after day after day glaring ahead of me like a white, broad, infinitely desolate avenue.

  Sylvia Plath

  Sleep, Years, Next Day

  Sylvia Plath (2008). “The Bell Jar”, p.95, Faber & Faber

• I wanted to crawl in between those black lines of print, the way you crawl through a fence, and go to sleep under that beautiful big green fig-tree.

  Sylvia Plath

  Beautiful, Sleep, Tree

  Sylvia Plath (2016). “The Bell Jar”, p.30, Hamilton Books

• I am terrified by this dark thing That sleeps in me; All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity. Clouds pass and disperse. Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables? Is it for such I agitate my heart? I am incapable of more knowledge. What is this, this face So murderous in its strangle of branches? - Its snaky acids kiss. It petrifies the will. These are the isolate, slow faults That kill, that kill, that kill.

  Sylvia Plath

  Heart, Sleep, Dark

  Sylvia Plath (2010). “Ariel: The Restored Edition”, p.35, Faber & Faber

• God, if ever I have come close to wanting to commit suicide, it is now, with the groggy sleepless blood dragging through my veins, and the air thick and gray with rain ... I fell into bed again this morning, begging for sleep, withdrawing into the dark, warm, fetid escape from action, from responsibility. No good.

  Sylvia Plath

  Suicide, Morning, Rain

  Sylvia Plath (2007). “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.149, Anchor

• I shall never get out of this! There are two of me now: This new absolutely white person and the old yellow one, And the white person is certainly the superior one. She doesn't need food, she is one of the real saints. At the beginning I hated her, she had no personality- She lay in bed with me like a dead body And I was scared, because she was shaped just the way I was only much whiter and unbreakable and with no complaints. I couldn't sleep for a week she was so cold.

  Sylvia Plath

  Real, Sleep, Two Of Me

  Sylvia Plath (2015). “Collected Poems”, p.141, Faber & Faber

• Whenever I'm sad I'm going to die, or so nervous I can't sleep, or in love with somebody I won't be seeing for a week, I slump down just so far and then I say: 'I'll go take a hot bath.

  Sylvia Plath

  Sleep, Baths, Slumps

  Sylvia Plath (2016). “The Bell Jar”, p.12, Hamilton Books

• When they asked some old Roman philosopher or other how he wanted to die, he said he would open his veins in a warm bath. I thought it would be easy, lying in the tup and seeing the redness flower from my wrists, flush after flush through the clear water, till I sank into sleep under a surface gaudy as poppies.

  Sylvia Plath

  Lying, Flower, Sleep

  Sylvia Plath (2008). “The Bell Jar”, p.110, Faber & Faber

• I'm doped and thick from my last sleeping pill.

  Sylvia Plath

  Sleep, Pills, Lasts

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

• I am terrified by this dark thing That sleeps in me; All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.

  Sylvia Plath

  Fear, Sleep, Dark

  Sylvia Plath (2010). “Ariel: The Restored Edition”, p.35, Faber & Faber

• I thought if only I had a keen, shapely bone structure to my face or could discuss politics shrewdly or was a famous writer Constantin might find me interesting enough to sleep with. And then I wondered if as soon as he came to like me he would sink into ordinariness, and if as soon as he came to love me I would find fault, the way I did with Buddy Willard and the boys before him.

  Sylvia Plath

  Sleep, Boys, Interesting

  Sylvia Plath (2016). “The Bell Jar”, p.44, Hamilton Books

• It's the living, the eating, the sleeping that everyone needs. Ideas don't matter so much after all. My three best friends are Catholic. I can't see their beliefs, but I can see the things they love to do on earth. When you come right down to it, I do believe in the freedom of the individual.

  Sylvia Plath

  Believe, Sleep, Ideas

  "The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath".

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