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Meanwhile in my head, I’m undergoing open-heart surgery.

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
Surgery
Head
Open
Heart
Undergoing
Meanwhile

More quotes by Anne Sexton

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Bless all useful objects, the spoons made of bone, the mattress I cook my dreams upon, the typewriter that is my church with an altar of keys always waiting.
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I have been cut in two.
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There is a good look that I wear like a blood clot. I have sewn it over my left breast. I have made a vocation of it.
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All I wanted was a little piece of life, to be married, to have children.... I was trying my damnedest to lead a conventional life, for that was how I was brought up, and it was what my husband wanted of me. But one can't build little white picket fences to keep the nightmares out.
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The trouble with therapy is that it makes life go backwards.
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As it has been said: Love and a cough cannot be concealed. Even a small cough. Even a small love.
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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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Saints have no moderation, nor do poets, just exuberance.
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But my future is a secret. / It is as shy as a mole.
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To tell the truth days are all the same size and words aren't much company.
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Rocks crumble, make new forms, oceans move the continents, mountains rise up and down like ghosts yet all is natural, all is change.
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Daisies in water are the longest lasting flower you can give to someone. Fact. Buy daisies. Not roses.
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I imitatea memory of beliefthat I do not own.
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It is June. I am tired of being brave.
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Someone is dead. Even the trees know it, those poor old dancers who come on lewdly, all pea-green scarfs and spine pole.
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life is a trick, life is a kitten in a sack.
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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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God has a brown voice, as soft and full as beer.
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My safe, safe psychosis is broken. It was hard. It was made of stone. It covered my face like a mask. But it has cracked.
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Suicides have a special language. Like carpenters they want to know which tools. They never ask why build.
Anne Sexton