Quote

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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Anne Sexton
Age: 45 †
Born: 1928
Born: November 9
Died: 1974
Died: October 4
Poet
Writer
Newton
Massachusetts
Anne Gray Harvey
Might
Must
Manner
Something
Pick
Always
Picks
Word
Forget
Another
Able

More quotes by Anne Sexton

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Now that I have written many words, and let out so many loves, for so many, and been altogether what I always was a woman of excess, of zeal and greed, I find the effort useless.
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Take your foot out of the graveyard, they are busy being dead.
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The sky breaks. It sags and breathes upon my face. in the presence of mine enemies, mine enemies The world is full of enemies. There is no safe place.
Anne Sexton
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... a starving man doesn't ask what the meal is.
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In a dream you are never eighty.
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Pulling off the fat diamond engagement ring, pulling off the elopement wedding ring, and holding them, clicking them in thumb and forefinger, the indent of twenty-five years, like a tiny rip leaving its mark.
Anne Sexton
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Home is my Bethlehem, my succoring shelter, my mental hospital, my wife, my dam, my husband, my sir, my womb, my skull.
Anne Sexton
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The soul was not cured, it was as full as a clothes closet of dresses that did not fit.
Anne Sexton
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Love your self's self where it lives.
Anne Sexton
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I tell it stories now and then and feed it images like honey. I will not speculate today with poems that think they're money.
Anne Sexton
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I like you your eyes are full of language. [Letter to Anne Clarke, July 3, 1964.]
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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I keep feeling that there isn't one poem being written by any one of us - or a book or anything like that. The whole life of us writers, the whole product I guess I mean, is the one long poem - a community effort if you will. It's all the same poem. It doesn't belong to any one writer - it's God's poem perhaps. Or God's people's poem.
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I am a collection of dismantled almosts.
Anne Sexton
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Suicides have a special language. Like carpenters they want to know which tools. They never ask why build.
Anne Sexton
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Evil is maybe lying to God. Or better, lying to love.
Anne Sexton
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Our eyes are full of terrible confessions.
Anne Sexton
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The Saints come, as human as a mouth, with a bag of God in their backs, like a hunchback, they come, they come marching in.
Anne Sexton
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You who have inhabited me in the deepest and most broken place, are going, going
Anne Sexton
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Watch out for intellect, because it knows so much it knows nothing and leaves you hanging upside down, mouthing knowledge as your heart falls out of your mouth.
Anne Sexton