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I rot on the wall, my own Dorian Gray.
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
Dorian
Gray
Wall
More quotes by Anne Sexton
My heart is on a budget. It keeps me on the brink.
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Writers are such phonies: they sometimes have wise insights but they don't live by them at all. That's what writers are like...you think they know something, but usually they are just messes.
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Sometimes the soul takes pictures of things it has wished for, but never seen.
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Maybe I am becoming a hermit, opening the door for only a few special animals? Maybe my skull is too crowded and it has no opening through which to feed it soup?
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I burn the way money burns.
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Cinderella and the prince lived, they say, happily ever after, like two dolls in a museum case never bothered by diapers or dust, never arguing over the timing of an egg, never telling the same story twice.
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And the aura of you remains, remains, remains...
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I am so imperfect, can you love me when really my soul is deformed? Will you love me anyhow?
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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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I am alone here in my own mind. There is no map and there is no road. It is one of a kind just as yours is.
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A woman who writes feels too much.
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I'll Vacuum up my stale hair, I'll pay all my neighbors' bad debts, I'll write a poem called Yellow and put my lips down to drink it up.
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After a disaster strikes, it can be very devastating and very challenging. You're going to need a lot of strength and energy, and the American Red Cross suggests you go for the high protein items.
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Some women marry houses. It's another kind of skin it has a heart, a mouth, a liver and bowel movements.
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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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Poetry is my life, my postmark, my hands, my kitchen, my face.
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My sleeping pill is white. It is a splendid pearl it floats me out of myself, my stung skin as alien as a loose bolt of cloth.
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I am torn in two but I will conquer myself.
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Poetry to me is prayer.
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this is no dream just my oily life where the people are alibis and the street is unfindable for an entire lifetime.
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