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Even so, I must admire your skill. You are so gracefully insane.

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
Gracefully
Skill
Insane
Admire
Skills
Must
Even

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I am younger each year at the first snow. When I see it, suddenly, in the air, all little and white and moving then I am in love again and very young and I believe everything.
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The man inside of woman ties a knot so that they will never again be separate.
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I grow old on my bitterness.
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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 Its mouth opens four times as out-of-date as a prehistoric monster, yet somehow man-made.
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I have forgiven all the old actors for dying. A new one comes on with the same lines, like large white growths, in his mouth. The dancers come on from the wings, perfectly mated.
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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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Jesus saw the multitudes were hungry and He said, Oh Lord, send down a short-order cook.
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Our children tremble in their teen-age cribs, whirling off on a thumb or a motorcycle.
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Nature is full of teeth that come in one by one, then decay, fall out.
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Don’t worry if they say you’re crazy. They said that about me and yet I was saner than all of them. I knew. No matter. You know. Insane or sane, you know. It’s a good thing to know - no matter what they call it.
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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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Yes I try to kill myself in small amounts, an innocuous occupation. Actually I'm hung up on it.
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Despite my asbestos gloves, the cough is filling me with black, and a red powder seeps through my veins.
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It is June. I am tired of being brave.
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When they turn the sun on again I'll plant children under it, I'll light up my soul with a match and let it sing.
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The joy that isn't shared dies young.
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I am not at home in myself. I am my own stranger.
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Not that it was beautiful, but that I found some order there.
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My husband sings Baa Baa black sheep and we pretend that all's certain and good, that the marriage won't end.
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My life has appeared unclothed in court, detail by detail, death-bone witness by death-bone witness, and I was shamed at the verdict.
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