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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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Anne Sexton
Age: 45 †
Born: 1928
Born: November 9
Died: 1974
Died: October 4
Poet
Writer
Newton
Massachusetts
Anne Gray Harvey
Became
Slaughterhouses
Side
Dried
Went
Stone
Sides
Fingers
Body
Stones
Roamed
Like
Despair
Sandpaper
Sea
Slaughterhouse
Sun
Mutton
More quotes by Anne Sexton
All the oxygen of the world was in them. All the feet of the babies of the world were in them. All the crotches of the angels of the world were in them. All the morning kisses of Philadelphia were in them.
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Today is made of yesterday, each time I steal toward rites I do not know, waiting for the lost ingredient, as if salt or money or even lust would keep us calm and prove us whole at last.
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I was spread out dailyand examined for flaws.
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They [daisies] are my favorite flower. There is something innocent and vulnerable about them as if they thanked you for admiring them.
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For forty days, for forty nights Jesus put one foot in front of the other and the man he carried, if it was a man, became heavier and heavier.
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we do not explain my husband's insane abuse and we do not say why your wild-haired wife has fled or that my father opened like a walnut and then was dead. Your palms fold over me like knees. Love is the only use.
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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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Everyone has left me except my muse, that good nurse. She stays in my hand, a mild white mouse.
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I am your dwarf. I am the enemy within. I am the boss of your dreams. See. Your hand shakes. It is not palsy or booze. It is your Doppelganger trying to get out. Beware...Beware...
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Evil is maybe lying to God. Or better, lying to love.
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I think it will be a miracle if I don't someday end up killing myself.
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All considerations for these human remains! They must have an escort! They are classified!
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The man inside of woman ties a knot so that they will never again be separate.
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In an old time there was a king as wise as a dictionary.
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Let the light be called Day so that men may grow corn or take busses.
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You lay, a small knuckle on my white bed lay, that fist like a snail, small and strong at my breast. Your lips are animals you are fed with love. At first, hunger is not wrong.
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To love another is somethinglike prayer and it can't be planned, you just fallinto its arms because your belief undoes your disbelief.
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the marriage twists, holds firm, a sailor's knot.
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This is what poems are: with mercy for the greedy, they are the tongue's wrangle, the world's pottage, the rat's star.
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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.
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