Quote

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
Innocent
Favorite
Flower
Something
Thanked
Daisies
Admiring
Vulnerable

More quotes by Anne Sexton

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My eyes, those sluts, those whores, would play no more.
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I imitatea memory of beliefthat I do not own.
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Yet love enters my blood like an I.V., dripping in its little white moments.
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All I wanted was a little piece of life, to be married, to have children.... I was trying my damnedest to lead a conventional life, for that was how I was brought up, and it was what my husband wanted of me. But one can't build little white picket fences to keep the nightmares out.
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Of course the New Testament is very small. Its mouth opens four times as out-of-date as a prehistoric monster, yet somehow man-made.
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My business is words. Words are like labels, or coins, or better, like swarming bees.
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I am tearing the feathers out of the pillows, waiting, waiting for Daddy to come home and stuff me so full of our infected child that I turn invisible, but married, at last.
Anne Sexton
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Look to your heart that flutters in and out like a moth. God is not indifferent to your need. You have a thousand prayers but God has one.
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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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Psychiatry is a dirty mirror.
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The boys and girls are one tonight. They unbutton blouses. They unzip flies. They take off shoes. They turn off the light. The glimmering creatures are full of lies. They are eating each other. They are overfed. At night, alone, I marry the bed.
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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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We are all writing God's poem.
Anne Sexton
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I'm the crazy one who thinks that words reach people.
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When I lie down to love, old dwarf heart shakes her head. Like an imbecile she was born old.
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Poems aren't postcards to send home.
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God is only mocked by believers.
Anne Sexton
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The man inside of woman ties a knot so that they will never again be separate.
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The snow has quietness in it no songs, no smells, no shouts or traffic. When I speak my own voice shocks me.
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Every time I get happy the Nana-hex comes through. Birds turn into plumber's tools, a sonnet turns into a dirty joke, a wind turns into a tracheotomy, a boat turns into a corpse.
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