Sylvia Plath Quotes

For now she need not think of anybody. She coud be herself, by herself. And that was what now she often felt the need of - to think; well not even to think. To be silent; to be alone. All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others... and this self having shed its attachments was free for the strangest adventures.

There are moments when it's too quiet. Particularly late at night or early in the mornings. That's when you know there's something lacking in your life. You just know.

Hoyt was by himself right under one of the portable lights rigged up for the occasion. He had his hands thrust in his pockets, and he looked more serious than I’d ever seen him. There was something strange about the sight, and after a second I figured out why. It was one of the few times I’d ever seen Hoyt alone.

He's stuck at 3:14 a.m. with only the moon to talk to.

Silence is so accurate.

I need, absolutely, to be alone.

A great reader seldom recognizes his solitude.

I'm a very interior person. I love silence. I revel in it. I'm happy that way.

I'm very introspective, and I mostly don't talk to people. I get into a real quiet, meditative place.

I live alone, so I don't really talk to anyone once I'm home. I have some silent nights.

All of our great traditions, religious, contemplative and artistic, say that you must a learn how to be alone - and have a relationship with silence. It is difficult, but it can start with just the tiniest quiet moment.

There are days when solitude is a heady wine that intoxicates you with freedom, others when it is a bitter tonic, and still others when it is a poison that makes you beat your head against the wall.

Sometimes it was so quiet, it's frightening. It really prioritizes things.

I am rather inclined to silence.

As a writer, I spend a lot of time alone, and I like it. I'm also a long-distance runner, and I love long, solo road trips; I can drive literally all night, drinking coffee, and not even listening to the radio, just strangely content sifting through the random thoughts in my own head.

I am working out the vocabulary of my silence.

For now she need not think of anybody. She could be herself, by herself. And that was what now she often felt the need of - to think; well not even to think. To be silent; to be alone.

I like the dark part of the night, after midnight and before four-thirty, when it's hollow, when ceilings are harder and farther away. Then I can breathe, and can think while others are sleeping, in a way can stop time, can have it so – this has always been my dream – so that while everyone else is frozen, I can work busily about them, doing whatever it is that needs to be done, like the elves who make the shoes while children sleep.

To go into solitude, a man needs to retire as much from his chamber as from society. I am not solitary whilst I read and write, though nobody is with me. But if a man would be alone, let him look at the stars.

Why are we embarassed by silence? What comfort do we find in all the noise?

But the first lesson reading teaches is how to be alone.

It isn't necessary that you leave home. Sit at your desk and listen. Don't even listen, just wait. Don't wait, be still and alone. The whole world will offer itself to you.

The thing that I love, especially after sound check, is when I'm in that stadium alone. It's complete silence. I love that.

There was just one moon. That familiar, yellow, solitary moon. The same moon that silently floated over fields of pampas grass, the moon that rose--a gleaming, round saucer--over the calm surface of lakes, that tranquilly beamed down on the rooftops of fast-asleep houses. The same moon that brought the high tide to shore, that softly shone on the fur of animals and enveloped and protected travelers at night. The moon that, as a crescent, shaved slivers from the soul--or, as a new moon, silently bathed the earth in its own loneliness. THAT moon.

I love the process of being alone in a room.