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Sometimes the soul takes pictures of things it has wished for, but never seen.

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
Things
Never
Wished
Pictures
Takes
Seen
Soul
Sometimes

More quotes by Anne Sexton

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Daylight is nobody's friend. God comes in like a landlord and flashes on his brassy lamp.
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My death from the wrists, two name tags, blood worn like a corsage to bloom one on the left and one on the right.
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No matter whose bed you die in the bed will be yours for your voyage onto the surgical andiron of God.
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And if I tried to give you something else, something outside myself, you would not know that the worst of anyone can be, finally, an accident of hope
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What's missing is the eyeballs in each of us, but it doesn't matter because you've got the bucks, the bucks, the bucks.
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Watch out for love (unless it is true, and every part of you says yes including the toes), it will wrap you up like a mummy, and your scream won't be heard and none of your running will run.
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I’ll put it out there: I am scarred by the nostalgic indicipherability of my own desires I an engulfed by the intimidating unknown, pushed through darkness and dragged down by the irretrievable past sweetness of my memories.
Anne Sexton
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It is in the small things we see it. The child's first step, as awesome as an earthquake. The first time you rode a bike, wallowing up the sidewalk.
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Nature is full of teeth that come in one by one, then decay, fall out.
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Our checks are pale. Our wallets are invalids. Past due, past due, is what our bills are saying and yet we kiss in every corner, scuffing the dust and the cat. Love rises like bread as we go bust.
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Man is a bird full of mud, I say aloud. And death looks on with a casual eye and scratches his anus.
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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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My mouth blooms like a cut.
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I burn the way money burns.
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And what of the dead? They lie without shoes in the stone boats. They are more like stone than the sea would be if it stopped. They refuse to be blessed, throat, eye and knucklebone.
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I am teaching... This year it's kind of like having a love affair with a rhinoceros.
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I think I've been writing black poems all along, wearing my white mask. I'm always the victim ... but no longer!
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We talked death with burned-up intensity, both of us drawn to it like moths to an electric light bulb. Sucking on it!
Anne Sexton
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For I could not read or speak and on the long nights I could not turn the moon off or count the lights of cars across the ceiling.
Anne Sexton
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Let God be some tribal female who is known but forbidden.
Anne Sexton