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God owns heaven but He craves the earth.

Anne Sexton

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Anne Sexton
Age: 45 †
Born: 1928
Born: November 9
Died: 1974
Died: October 4
Poet
Writer
Newton
Massachusetts
Anne Gray Harvey
Owns
Crave
Heaven
Earth
Craves

More quotes by Anne Sexton

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I who was a house full of bowel movement, I who was a defaced altar, I who wanted to crawl toward God could not move nor eat bread.
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Watch out for love (unless it is true, and every part of you says yes including the toes), it will wrap you up like a mummy, and your scream won't be heard and none of your running will run.
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The future is a fog that is still hanging out over the sea, a boat that floats home or does not. The trade winds blow me, and I do not know where the land is the waves fold over each other they are in love with themselves sleeping in their own skin and I float over them and I do not know about tomorrow.
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To die whole, riddled with nothing but desire for it, is like breakfast after love.
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To tell the truth days are all the same size and words aren't much company.
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If you meet a cross-eyed person you must plunge into the grass, alongside the chilly ants, fish through the green fingernails and come up with the four-leaf clover.
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Evil is maybe lying to God. Or better, lying to love.
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And the aura of you remains, remains, remains...
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Rocks crumble, make new forms, oceans move the continents, mountains rise up and down like ghosts yet all is natural, all is change.
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No one to hate except the slim fish of memory that slides in and out of my brain.
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Though rain curses the window let the poem be made.
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Need is not quite belief.
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O fallen angel, the companion within me, whisper something holy before you pinch me into the grave.
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The little girl skipped by under the wrinkled oak leaves and held fast to a replica of herself.
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My ideas are a curse. They spring from a radical discontent with the awful order of things. I play clown. I play carpenter. I play nurse. I play witch.
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Emerald as heavy as a golf course, ruby as dark as an afterbirth, diamond as white as sun on the sea.
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Take a woman talking, purging herself with rhymes, drumming words out like a typewriter, planting words in you like grass seed. You'll move off.
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But my future is a secret. / It is as shy as a mole.
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I want to kiss God on His nose and watch Him sneeze and so do you. Not out of disrespect. Out of pique. Out of a man-to-man thing.
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There is no word for time. Today we will not think to number another summer or watch its white bird into the ground.
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