Quote

And what of the dead? They lie without shoes in the stone boats. They are more like stone than the sea would be if it stopped. They refuse to be blessed, throat, eye and knucklebone.

Anne Sexton

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

Anne Sexton
Age: 45 †
Born: 1928
Born: November 9
Died: 1974
Died: October 4
Poet
Writer
Newton
Massachusetts
Anne Gray Harvey
Without
Refuse
Would
Stones
Like
Shoes
Blessed
Boats
Sea
Throat
Dead
Stone
Lying
Stopped
Eye
Boat

More quotes by Anne Sexton

Image
Every time I get happy the Nana-hex comes through. Birds turn into plumber's tools, a sonnet turns into a dirty joke, a wind turns into a tracheotomy, a boat turns into a corpse.
Anne Sexton
Image
To die whole, riddled with nothing but desire for it, is like breakfast after love.
Anne Sexton
Image
I find now, swallowing one teaspoon of pain, that it drops downward to the past where it mixes with last year’s cupful and downward into a decade’s quart and downward into a lifetime’s ocean. I alternate treading water and deadman’s float.
Anne Sexton
Image
Here in the hospital, I say,that is not my body, not my body.I am not here for the doctorsto read like a recipe.
Anne Sexton
Image
Let the light be called Day so that men may grow corn or take busses.
Anne Sexton
Image
bike downtown, stick out tongues at the Catholics. Or form a Piss Club where we all go in the bushes and peek at each other's sex.
Anne Sexton
Image
The windows, the starving windows that drive the trees like nails into my heart.
Anne Sexton
Image
Poems aren't postcards to send home.
Anne Sexton
Image
Take your foot out of the graveyard, they are busy being dead.
Anne Sexton
Image
Man is a bird full of mud, I say aloud. And death looks on with a casual eye and scratches his anus.
Anne Sexton
Image
I was spread out dailyand examined for flaws.
Anne Sexton
Image
The beautiful feeling after writing a poem is on the whole better even than after sex, and that's saying a lot.
Anne Sexton
Image
There is hope. There is hope everywhere. Today God give milk and I have the pail.
Anne Sexton
Image
Maybe I am becoming a hermit, opening the door for only a few special animals? Maybe my skull is too crowded and it has no opening through which to feed it soup?
Anne Sexton
Image
Suddenly I'm not half the girl I used to be. There's a shadow hanging over me . . . From me to you out of my electric devil.
Anne Sexton
Image
And we are magic talking to itself, noisy and alone. I am queen of all my sins forgotten. Am I still lost? Once I was beautiful. Now I am myself
Anne Sexton
Image
Big heart, wide as a watermelon, but wise as birth, there is so much abundance in the people I have.
Anne Sexton
Image
Bless all useful objects, the spoons made of bone, the mattress I cook my dreams upon, the typewriter that is my church with an altar of keys always waiting.
Anne Sexton
Image
God has a brown voice, as soft and full as beer.
Anne Sexton
Image
I was the girl of the chain letter, the girl full of talk of coffins and keyholes, the one of the telephone bills, the wrinkled photo and the lost connections.
Anne Sexton