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They [daisies] are my favorite flower. There is something innocent and vulnerable about them as if they thanked you for admiring them.

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
Flower
Something
Thanked
Daisies
Admiring
Vulnerable
Innocent
Favorite

More quotes by Anne Sexton

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I was only sitting here in my white study with the awful black words pushing me around.
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And thus Snow White became the prince's bride. The wicked queen was invited to the wedding feast and when she arrived there were red-hot iron shoes, in the manner of red-hot roller skates, clamped upon her feet.
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For forty days, for forty nights Jesus put one foot in front of the other and the man he carried, if it was a man, became heavier and heavier.
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Daylight is nobody's friend. God comes in like a landlord and flashes on his brassy lamp.
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Yes I try to kill myself in small amounts, an innocuous occupation. Actually I'm hung up on it.
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My life has appeared unclothed in court, detail by detail, death-bone witness by death-bone witness, and I was shamed at the verdict.
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I put the gold star up in the front window beside the flag. Alterations is what I know and what I did: hems, gussets and seams.
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Fear / a motor, / pumps me around and around / until I fade slowly.
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I'm hunting for the truth. It might be a kind of poetic truth, and not just a factual one, because behind everything that happens to you, there is another truth, a secret life.
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Yes, I know. Death sits with his key in my lock. Not one day is taken for granted. Even nursery rhymes have put me in hock.
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O starry night, This is how I want to die
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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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My ideas are a curse. They spring from a radical discontent with the awful order of things. I play clown. I play carpenter. I play nurse. I play witch.
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The trouble with therapy is that it makes life go backwards.
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Today God gives milk / and I have the pail.
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Our eyes are full of terrible confessions.
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My business is words. Words are like labels, or coins, or better, like swarming bees.
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Inside many of us is a small old man who wants to get out.
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I did not know the woman I would be nor that blood would bloom in me each month like an exotic flower, nor that children, two monuments, would break from between my legs.
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Once I was a couple. I was my own king and queen with cheese and bread and rosé on the rocks of Rockport.
Anne Sexton