Quote

Talk to me about sadness. I talk about it too much in my own head but I never mind others talking about it either I occasionally feel like I tremendously need others to talk about it as well.

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
Needs
Talk
Much
Talking
Mind
Others
Never
Wells
Tremendously
Like
Well
Occasionally
Need
Sadness
Feel
Either
Feels
Head

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Need is not quite belief.
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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 was the girl of the chain letter, the girl full of talk of coffins and keyholes, the one of the telephone bills, the wrinkled photo and the lost connections.
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And the aura of you remains, remains, remains...
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In a letter (no matter how quickly it is written or honestly or freely or lovingly) it is more possible to be loving and lovable, more possible to reach out and to take in ... I feel I have somehow deceived you into thinking this is really a human relationship. It is a letter relationship between humans.
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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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Only my books anoint me, and a few friends, those who reach into my veins.
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I’m lost. And it’s my own fault. It’s about time I figured out that I can’t ask people to keep me found.
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Death's in the good-bye.
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Yet love enters my blood like an I.V., dripping in its little white moments.
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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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Being kissed on the back of the knee is a moth at the windowscreen.
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Take your foot out of the graveyard, they are busy being dead.
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The fish are naked. The fish are always awake. They are the color of old spoons and caramels.
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It would be pleasant to be drunk.
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All considerations for these human remains! They must have an escort! They are classified!
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Oh thumb, I want a drink it is dark, where are the big people, when will I get there...?
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I imitatea memory of beliefthat I do not own.
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O yellow eye, let me be sick with your heat, let me be feverish and frowning.
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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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