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Images are the heart of poetry ... You're not a poet without imagery.

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
Without
Heart
Imagery
Images
Poet
Poetry

More quotes by Anne Sexton

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Oh, darling, let your body in, let it tie you in, in comfort.
Anne Sexton
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Daylight is nobody's friend. God comes in like a landlord and flashes on his brassy lamp.
Anne Sexton
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I leave you, home, when I'm ripped from the doorstep by commerce or fate. Then I submit to the awful subway of the world.
Anne Sexton
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There is hope. There is hope everywhere. Today God give milk and I have the pail.
Anne Sexton
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No one to hate except the slim fish of memory that slides in and out of my brain.
Anne Sexton
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I rot on the wall, my own Dorian Gray.
Anne Sexton
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The fish are naked. The fish are always awake. They are the color of old spoons and caramels.
Anne Sexton
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Please God, we're all right here. Please leave us alone. Don't send death in his fat red suit and his ho-ho baritone.
Anne Sexton
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All considerations for these human remains! They must have an escort! They are classified!
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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There is no word for time. Today we will not think to number another summer or watch its white bird into the ground.
Anne Sexton
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The sea is mother-death and she is a mighty female, the one who wins, the one who sucks us all up.
Anne Sexton
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The joy that isn't shared dies young.
Anne Sexton
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Poems aren't postcards to send home.
Anne Sexton
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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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I see myself as one would see another. I have been cut in two.
Anne Sexton
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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.
Anne Sexton
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I sit at my desk each night with no place to go, opening the wrinkled maps of Milwaukee and Buffalo, the whole U.S., its cemeteries, its arbitrary time zones, through routes like small veins, capitals like small stones.
Anne Sexton
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My eyes, those sluts, those whores, would play no more.
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