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A woman / who loves a woman / is forever young.

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
Loves
Forever
Woman
Young
Sexuality

More quotes by 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.
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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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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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O yellow eye, let me be sick with your heat, let me be feverish and frowning.
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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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Being kissed on the back of the knee is a moth at the windowscreen.
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With this pen I take in hand my selves and with these dead disciples I will grapple. Though rain curses the window let the poem be made.
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[I] have fantasies of killing myself and thus being the powerful one not the powerless one.
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Sometimes I fly like an eagle but with the wings of a wren
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Oh thumb, I want a drink it is dark, where are the big people, when will I get there...?
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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.
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No matter whose bed you die in the bed will be yours for your voyage onto the surgical andiron of God.
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Yesterday I did not want to be borrowed but this is the typewriter that sits before me and love is where yesterday is at.
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She is so naked and singular. She is the sum of yourself and your dream. Climb her like a monument, step after step. She is solid.
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It was as if a morning-glory had bloomed in her throat, and all that blue and small pollen ate into my heart, violent and religious
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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.
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I would like a simple life / yet all night I am laying / poems away in a long box.
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And we are magic talking to itself, noisy and alone. I am queen of all my sins forgotten. Am I still lost? Once I was beautiful. Now I am myself
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The stars are pears that no one can reach, even for a wedding. Perhaps for a death.
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The grass as bristly and stout as chives and me wondering when the ground will break and me wondering how anything fragile survives
Anne Sexton