...we shall board our imagined ship and wildly sail among sacred islands of the mad till death shatters the fabulous stars and makes us real.
The sky leans on me, me, the one upright among all horizontals.
Interpretation
What this quote means
This quote expresses a sense of isolation and the weight of existence while standing out in a flat world.
In this quote, Sylvia Plath illustrates a feeling of solitude and the burden of being unique in a world that seems to conform to sameness. The imagery of the sky leaning on the speaker suggests a sense of pressure or expectation, while the notion of being 'the one upright among all horizontals' highlights the struggle of maintaining individuality amidst a sea of uniformity. It encapsulates a profound emotional experience of standing apart, possibly implying both strength and vulnerability.
Themes
In practice
Example use cases
This quote is perfect for a graduation speech discussing the challenges of standing out in life.
More from Sylvia Plath
All quotes →The hardest thing, I think, is to live richly in the present, without letting it be tainted & spoiled out of fear for the future or regret for a badly-managed past.
It is as if my life were magically run by two electric currents: joyous positive and despairing negative--which ever is running at the moment dominates my life, floods it.
You walked in, laughing, tears welling confused, mingling in your throat. How can you be so many women to so many people, oh you strange girl?
I keep wanting to crawl back into the womb.
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.
Similar quotes
I hear it in the deep heart's core.
Or from Browning some "Pomegranate," which if cut deep down the middle Shows a heart within blood-tinctured, of a veined humanity.
My self-confidence can be measured out in teaspoons mixed into my poetry, and it still always tastes funny in my mouth.
The feel of not to feel it, When there is none to heal it Nor numbed sense to steel it.
And I will find some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,/ Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings.
Have you reckon’d a thousand acres much? have you reckon’d the earth much? Have you practis’d so long to learn to read? Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?