Quote

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?

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
Opening
Animals
Hermit
Door
Hermits
Doors
Skull
Becoming
Skulls
Special
Crowded
Animal
Soup
Maybe
Feed

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The beautiful feeling after writing a poem is on the whole better even than after sex, and that's saying a lot.
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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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To die whole, riddled with nothing but desire for it, is like breakfast after love.
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Love your self's self where it lives.
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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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I hoard books. They are people who do not leave.
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The town is silent. The night boils with eleven stars. Oh starry starry night! This is how I want to die.
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I am out of practice at living. You are as brave as a motorcycle.
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But even in a telephone booth evil can seep out of the receiver and we must cover it with a mattress, and then tear it from its roots and bury it, bury it.
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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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All day I've built a lifetime and now the sun sinks to undo it.
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