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The trouble with therapy is that it makes life go backwards.

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
Trouble
Makes
Life
Backwards
Therapy

More quotes by Anne Sexton

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Everyone has left me except my muse, that good nurse. She stays in my hand, a mild white mouse.
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God has a brown voice, as soft and full as beer.
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this is no dream just my oily life where the people are alibis and the street is unfindable for an entire lifetime.
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Man is a bird full of mud, I say aloud. And death looks on with a casual eye and scratches his anus.
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Father, you died once, salted down at fifty-nine, packed down like a big snow angel, wasn't that enough?
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The silence is death. It comes each day with its shock to sit on my shoulder, a white bird, and peck at the black eyes and the vibrating red muscle of my mouth.
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There is hope. There is hope everywhere. Today God give milk and I have the pail.
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Emerald as heavy as a golf course, ruby as dark as an afterbirth, diamond as white as sun on the sea.
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I am alone here in my own mind. There is no map and there is no road. It is one of a kind just as yours is.
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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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Jesus saw the multitudes were hungry and He said, Oh Lord, send down a short-order cook.
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At six I lived in a graveyard full of dolls, avoiding myself, my body, the suspect in its grotesque house.
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To love another is somethinglike prayer and it can't be planned, you just fallinto its arms because your belief undoes your disbelief.
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the heart, this child of myself that resides in the flesh, this ultimate signature of the me, the start of my blindness and sleep, builds a death crèche.
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Some women marry houses. It's another kind of skin it has a heart, a mouth, a liver and bowel movements.
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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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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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God is only mocked by believers.
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I have forgiven all the old actors for dying. A new one comes on with the same lines, like large white growths, in his mouth. The dancers come on from the wings, perfectly mated.
Anne Sexton
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Only my books anoint me, and a few friends, those who reach into my veins.
Anne Sexton