Quote

For I could not read or speak and on the long nights I could not turn the moon off or count the lights of cars across the ceiling.

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
Night
Count
Light
Across
Long
Car
Moon
Ceiling
Turn
Ceilings
Turns
Nights
Read
Lights
Speak
Cars

More quotes by Anne Sexton

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Fear / a motor, / pumps me around and around / until I fade slowly.
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The tongue, the Chinese say, is like a sharp knife: it kills without drawing blood.
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Take a woman talking, purging herself with rhymes, drumming words out like a typewriter, planting words in you like grass seed. You'll move off.
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Today God gives milk / and I have the pail.
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The sanest thing in this world is love.
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My eyes, those sluts, those whores, would play no more.
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Everyone has left me except my muse, that good nurse. She stays in my hand, a mild white mouse.
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Our eyes are full of terrible confessions.
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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 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 said, the poets are there I hear them singing and lying around their round table and around me still.
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Now, in my middle age, about nineteen in the head I'd say, I am rowing, I am rowing.
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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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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.
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Watch out for intellect, because it knows so much it knows nothing and leaves you hanging upside down, mouthing knowledge as your heart falls out of your mouth.
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The stars are pears that no one can reach, even for a wedding. Perhaps for a death.
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I’ll put it out there: I am scarred by the nostalgic indicipherability of my own desires I an engulfed by the intimidating unknown, pushed through darkness and dragged down by the irretrievable past sweetness of my memories.
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But my future is a secret. / It is as shy as a mole.
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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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The Saints come, as human as a mouth, with a bag of God in their backs, like a hunchback, they come, they come marching in.
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