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I tell you what you’ll never really know: all the medical hypothesis that explained my brain will never be as true as these struck leaves letting go.

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
Never
Struck
Letting
Medical
Leaves
Brain
Tell
True
Explained
Really
Hypothesis

More quotes by Anne Sexton

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Well, one gets out of bed and the planets don't always hiss or muck up the day, each day.
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The boys and girls are one tonight. They unbutton blouses. They unzip flies. They take off shoes. They turn off the light. The glimmering creatures are full of lies. They are eating each other. They are overfed. At night, alone, I marry the bed.
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I am tearing the feathers out of the pillows, waiting, waiting for Daddy to come home and stuff me so full of our infected child that I turn invisible, but married, at last.
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All considerations for these human remains! They must have an escort! They are classified!
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But my future is a secret. / It is as shy as a mole.
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The family story tells, and it was told true, of my great-grandfather who begat eight genius children and bought twelve almost new grand pianos. He left a considerable estate when he died.
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It is a dead heart. It is inside of me. It is a stranger yet once it was agreeable, opening and closing like a clam.
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Don’t worry if they say you’re crazy. They said that about me and yet I was saner than all of them. I knew. No matter. You know. Insane or sane, you know. It’s a good thing to know - no matter what they call it.
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When I'm writing, I know I'm doing the thing I was born to do.
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One can't build little white picket fences to keep nightmares out.
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The sky breaks. It sags and breathes upon my face. in the presence of mine enemies, mine enemies The world is full of enemies. There is no safe place.
Anne Sexton
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Jesus saw the multitudes were hungry and He said, Oh Lord, send down a short-order cook.
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O starry night, This is how I want to die
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Then all this became history. Your hand found mine. Life rushed to my fingers like a blood clot. Oh, my carpenter, the fingers are rebuilt. They dance with yours.
Anne Sexton
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No one to hate except the slim fish of memory that slides in and out of my brain.
Anne Sexton
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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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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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I think it will be a miracle if I don't someday end up killing myself.
Anne Sexton
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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
Anne Sexton
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It was as if a morning-glory had bloomed in her throat, and all that blue and small pollen ate into my heart, violent and religious
Anne Sexton