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... a starving man doesn't ask what the meal is.

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
Meals
Hunger
Asks
Doesn
Men
Starving
Meal

More quotes by Anne Sexton

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Our eyes are full of terrible confessions.
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When I'm writing, I know I'm doing the thing I was born to do.
Anne Sexton
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Death's in the good-bye.
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My heart is on a budget. It keeps me on the brink.
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The future is a fog that is still hanging out over the sea, a boat that floats home or does not.
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The joy that isn't shared dies young.
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True. There is a beautiful Jesus. He is frozen to his bones like a chunk of beef. How desperately he wanted to pull his arms in! How desperately I touch his vertical and horizontal axes! But I can't. Need is not quite belief.
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Only my books anoint me, and a few friends, those who reach into my veins.
Anne Sexton
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this is no dream just my oily life where the people are alibis and the street is unfindable for an entire lifetime.
Anne Sexton
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I am alone here in my own mind. There is no map and there is no road. It is one of a kind just as yours is.
Anne Sexton
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I cannot walk an inch / without trying to walk to God.
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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Now I am going back And I have ripped my hand From your hand as I said I would And I have made it this far.
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Everyone in me is a bird I am beating all my wings
Anne Sexton
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Someone is dead. Even the trees know it, those poor old dancers who come on lewdly, all pea-green scarfs and spine pole.
Anne Sexton
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Letters are false really - they are expressions of the way you wish you were instead of the way you are.
Anne Sexton
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I who was a house full of bowel movement, I who was a defaced altar, I who wanted to crawl toward God could not move nor eat bread.
Anne Sexton
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And the aura of you remains, remains, remains...
Anne Sexton
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Mood can be as important as sense.
Anne Sexton
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At six I lived in a graveyard full of dolls, avoiding myself, my body, the suspect in its grotesque house.
Anne Sexton