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Now I am just an elderly lady who is full of spleen, who humps around greater Boston in a God-awful hat, who never lived and yet outlived her time, hating men and dogs and Democrats.

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
Greater
Democrats
Hate
Dogs
Humps
Around
Lady
Outlived
Never
Democrat
Spleen
Men
Awful
Hating
Time
Dog
Elderly
Lived
Boston
Full
Hats

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I cannot walk an inch / without trying to walk to God.
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I would like a simple life / yet all night I am laying / poems away in a long box.
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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.
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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.
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Poetry is my life, my postmark, my hands, my kitchen, my face.
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My ideas are a curse. They spring from a radical discontent with the awful order of things. I play clown. I play carpenter. I play nurse. I play witch.
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Psychiatry is a dirty mirror.
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True. There is a beautiful Jesus. He is frozen to his bones like a chunk of beef. How desperately he wanted to pull his arms in! How desperately I touch his vertical and horizontal axes! But I can't. Need is not quite belief.
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I rot on the wall, my own Dorian Gray.
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I'm an empress. I wear an apron. My typewriter writes. It didn't break the way it warned. Even crazy, I'm as nice as a chocolate bar.
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Love your self's self where it lives.
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Oh thumb, I want a drink it is dark, where are the big people, when will I get there...?
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Everyone has left me except my muse, that good nurse. She stays in my hand, a mild white mouse.
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Oh sharp diamond, my mother! I could not count the cost of all your faces, your moods that present that I lost. Sweet girl, my deathbed, my jewel-fingered lady...
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It's all a matter of history. Brandy is no solace. Librium only lies me down like a dead snow queen. Yes! I am still the criminal.
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Not that it was beautiful, but that I found some order there.
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think of innocent Icarus who is doing quite well: larger than a sail, over the fog and the blast of the plushy ocean, he goes. Admire his wings!
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I am out of practice at living. You are as brave as a motorcycle.
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God is only mocked by believers.
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Today God gives milk / and I have the pail.
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