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Be careful of words, / ... they can be both daisies and bruises.

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
Bruises
Careful
Words
Language
Daisies

More quotes by Anne Sexton

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The town is silent. The night boils with eleven stars. Oh starry starry night! This is how I want to die.
Anne Sexton
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There is a good look that I wear like a blood clot. I have sewn it over my left breast. I have made a vocation of it.
Anne Sexton
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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.
Anne Sexton
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... and my love stays bitterly glowing, spasms of it will not sleep, and I am helpless and thirsty and need shade but there is no one to cover me- not even God.
Anne Sexton
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It's a little mad, but I believe I am many people. When I am writing a poem, I feel I am the person who should have written it.
Anne Sexton
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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.
Anne Sexton
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As for me, I am a watercolor. I wash off.
Anne Sexton
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Writers are such phonies: they sometimes have wise insights but they don't live by them at all. That's what writers are like...you think they know something, but usually they are just messes.
Anne Sexton
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Poets are sitting in my kitchen. Why do these poets lie? Why do children get children and Did you hear what it said?
Anne Sexton
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I brush my hair, waiting in the pain machine for my bones to get hard, for the soft, soft bones that were laid apart and were screwed together. They will knit. And the other corpse, the fractured heart, I feed it piecemeal, little chalice. I'm good to it.
Anne Sexton
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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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Poems aren't postcards to send home.
Anne Sexton
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I would sell my life to avoid the pain that begins in the crib with its bars or perhaps with your first breath when the planets drill your future into you.
Anne Sexton
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Inside many of us is a small old man who wants to get out.
Anne Sexton
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I hoard books. They are people who do not leave.
Anne Sexton
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I am torn in two but I will conquer myself.
Anne Sexton
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Meanwhile in my head, I’m undergoing open-heart surgery.
Anne Sexton
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When I lie down to love, old dwarf heart shakes her head. Like an imbecile she was born old.
Anne Sexton
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O yellow eye, let me be sick with your heat, let me be feverish and frowning.
Anne Sexton
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The little girl skipped by under the wrinkled oak leaves and held fast to a replica of herself.
Anne Sexton