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Well, one gets out of bed and the planets don't always hiss or muck up the day, each day.

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
Planets
Gets
Wells
Well
Always
Hiss
Muck
Astrology
Bed

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I like you your eyes are full of language. [Letter to Anne Clarke, July 3, 1964.]
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Psychiatry is a dirty mirror.
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I'm the crazy one who thinks that words reach people.
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Take adultery or theft. Merely sins. It is evil who dines on the soul, stretching out its long bone tongue. It is evil who tweezers my heart, picking out its atomic worms.
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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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Only my books anoint me, and a few friends, those who reach into my veins.
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The tongue, the Chinese say, is like a sharp knife: it kills without drawing blood.
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There is rust in my mouth,the stain of an old kiss.
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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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O starry night, This is how I want to die
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I can only sign over everything, the house, the dog, the ladders, the jewels, the soul, the family tree, the mailbox. Then I can sleep. Maybe.
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It doesn't matter who my father was it matters who I remember he was.
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To tell the truth days are all the same size and words aren't much company.
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Sometimes the soul takes pictures of things it has wished for, but never seen.
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One of my secret instructions to myself as a poet is Whatever you do, don't be boring.
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My heart is on a budget. It keeps me on the brink.
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My faith is a great weight hung on a small wire, as doth the spider hang her baby on a thin web.
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I want to kiss God on His nose and watch Him sneeze and so do you. Not out of disrespect. Out of pique. Out of a man-to-man thing.
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I will be steel! I will build a steel bridge over my need! I will build a bomb shelter over my heart! But my future is a secret. It is as shy as a mole.
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I am younger each year at the first snow.
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