Quote

Women tell time by the body. They are like clocks. They are always fastened to the earth, listening for its small animal noises.

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
Tell
Fastened
Earth
Clocks
Women
Noises
Body
Clock
Always
Noise
Time
Listening
Like
Animal
Small

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I am a collection of dismantled almosts.
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What's missing is the eyeballs in each of us, but it doesn't matter because you've got the bucks, the bucks, the bucks.
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Take adultery or theft. Merely sins. It is evil who dines on the soul, stretching out its long bone tongue. It is evil who tweezers my heart, picking out its atomic worms.
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I’m lost. And it’s my own fault. It’s about time I figured out that I can’t ask people to keep me found.
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My eyes, those sluts, those whores, would play no more.
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Oh, darling, let your body in, let it tie you in, in comfort.
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Somebody who should have been born is gone.
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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. The trade winds blow me, and I do not know where the land is the waves fold over each other they are in love with themselves sleeping in their own skin and I float over them and I do not know about tomorrow.
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I hoard books. They are people who do not leave.
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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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And within the house ashes are being stuffed into my marriage, fury is lapping the walls, dishes crack on the shelves, a strangler needs my throat, the daughter has ceased to eat anything.
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The soul was not cured, it was as full as a clothes closet of dresses that did not fit.
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I think of myself as writing for one person, that one perfect reader who understands and loves.
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You cutting the lawn, fixing the machines, all this leprous day and then more vodka, more soda and the pond forgiving our bodies, the pond sucking out the throb.
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Today life opened inside me like an egg.
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Watch out for intellect, because it knows so much it knows nothing and leaves you hanging upside down, mouthing knowledge as your heart falls out of your mouth.
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We are all writing God's poem.
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it was my first doll that water went into and water came out of much earlier it was the diaper I wore and the dirt thereof and my mother hating me for it
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