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The joy that isn't shared dies young.

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
Young
Shared
Joy
Dies
Happiness

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I am not lazy. I am on the amphetamine of the soul. I am, each day, typing out the God my typewriter believes in.
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it was my first doll that water went into and water came out of much earlier it was the diaper I wore and the dirt thereof and my mother hating me for it
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God has a brown voice, as soft and full as beer.
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I burn the way money burns.
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Perhaps I am no one. True, I have a body and I cannot escape from it. I would like to fly out of my head, but that is out of the question.
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I remember the stink of the liverwurst. How I was put on a platter and laid between the mayonnaise and the bacon. The rhythm of the refrigerator had been disturbed.
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But my future is a secret. / It is as shy as a mole.
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The tongue, the Chinese say, is like a sharp knife: it kills without drawing blood.
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It is in the small things we see it. The child's first step, as awesome as an earthquake. The first time you rode a bike, wallowing up the sidewalk.
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Depression is boring, I think and I would do better to make some soup and light up the cave.
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Today life opened inside me like an egg.
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the marriage twists, holds firm, a sailor's knot.
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You lay, a small knuckle on my white bed lay, that fist like a snail, small and strong at my breast. Your lips are animals you are fed with love. At first, hunger is not wrong.
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Let the light be called Day so that men may grow corn or take busses.
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Let there be seasons so that our tongues will be rich in asparagus and limes.
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Suicides have a special language. Like carpenters they want to know which tools. They never ask why build.
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Sometimes I fly like an eagle but with the wings of a wren
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Fee-fi-fo-fum - Now I'm borrowed. Now I'm numb.
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Of course the New Testament is very small. Its mouth opens four times as out-of-date as a prehistoric monster, yet somehow man-made.
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And tonight our skin, our bones, that have survived our fathers, will meet, delicate in the hold, fastened together in an intricate lock. Then one of us will shout, My need is more desperate! and I will eat you slowly with kisses even though the killer in you has gotten out.
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