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Poetry is my life, my postmark, my hands, my kitchen, my face.

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
Poetry
Face
Faces
Hands
Life
Kitchen

More quotes by Anne Sexton

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It's a little mad, but I believe I am many people. When I am writing a poem, I feel I am the person who should have written it.
Anne Sexton
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I am torn in two but I will conquer myself.
Anne Sexton
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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.
Anne Sexton
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Somebody who should have been born is gone. Yes, woman, such logic will lead to loss without death. Or say what you meant, you coward . . . this baby that I bleed.
Anne Sexton
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I must always forget how one word is able to pick out another, to manner another, until I have got something I might have said... but did not.
Anne Sexton
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It doesn't matter who my father was it matters who I remember he was.
Anne Sexton
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All I wanted was a little piece of life, to be married, to have children.... I was trying my damnedest to lead a conventional life, for that was how I was brought up, and it was what my husband wanted of me. But one can't build little white picket fences to keep the nightmares out.
Anne Sexton
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I rot on the wall, my own Dorian Gray.
Anne Sexton
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The little girl skipped by under the wrinkled oak leaves and held fast to a replica of herself.
Anne Sexton
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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
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Now I am going back And I have ripped my hand From your hand as I said I would And I have made it this far.
Anne Sexton
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Yes, I know. Death sits with his key in my lock. Not one day is taken for granted. Even nursery rhymes have put me in hock.
Anne Sexton
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I burn the way money burns.
Anne Sexton
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Rats live on no evil star
Anne Sexton
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To be without God is to be a snake / who wants to swallow an elephant.
Anne Sexton
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In a dream you are never eighty.
Anne Sexton
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Everyone in me is a bird I am beating all my wings
Anne Sexton
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God went out of me as if the sea dried up like sandpaper, as if the sun became a latrine. God went out of my fingers. They became stone. My body became a side of mutton and despair roamed the slaughterhouse.
Anne Sexton
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Despite my asbestos gloves, the cough is filling me with black, and a red powder seeps through my veins.
Anne Sexton
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The snow has quietness in it no songs, no smells, no shouts or traffic. When I speak my own voice shocks me.
Anne Sexton