QuoteProject
I saw the gooseflesh on my skin. I did not know what made it. I was not cold. Had a ghost passed over? No, it was the poetry.
Sylvia Plath
ShareWTF𝕏

Interpretation

What this quote means

The quote expresses an intense emotional reaction to poetry, likening it to a supernatural experience.

Sylvia Plath uses vivid imagery to describe the powerful effect poetry has on her, conveying the idea that it can elicit deep, almost ghostly sensations. The gooseflesh, typically associated with coldness or fear, here arises from the beauty and impact of the poetic experience, illustrating that poetry stirs profound emotions within us.

Themes

PoetryEmotionBeautyExperienceExpression

In practice

Example use cases

This quote can be used in a poetry reading to express the deep feelings poetry can evoke.

More from Sylvia Plath

...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.
Sylvia PlathRead
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.
Sylvia PlathRead
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.
Sylvia PlathRead
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?
Sylvia PlathRead
I keep wanting to crawl back into the womb.
Sylvia PlathRead
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 PlathRead

Similar quotes

Especially when the October wind With frosty fingers punishes my hair, Caught by the crabbing sun I walk on fire And cast a shadow crab upon the land, By the sea's side, hearing the noise of birds, Hearing the raven cough in winter sticks, My busy heart who shudders as she talks Sheds the syllabic blood and drains her words.
Dylan ThomasRead
I hear it in the deep heart's core.
William Butler YeatsRead
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?
Walt WhitmanRead
Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky
T. S. EliotRead
The feel of not to feel it, When there is none to heal it Nor numbed sense to steel it.
John KeatsRead
And I will find some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,/ Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings.
William Butler YeatsRead

A little wisdom, now and then

Subscribe for the occasional hand-picked quote. No noise.

Quote by Sylvia Plath | QuoteProject