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I tell it stories now and then and feed it images like honey. I will not speculate today with poems that think they're money.

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
Poetry
Tell
Money
Speculate
Stories
Poems
Today
Honey
Think
Feed
Thinking
Images
Like
Poet

More quotes by Anne Sexton

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Thumbs grow into my throat. I wear slaps like a spot of rouge.
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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I love you. You are closest to my heart, closer than any other human being. You are my extension. You are my prayer. You are my belief in God. For better or worse you inherit me.
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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As for me, I am a watercolor. I wash off.
Anne Sexton
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To tell the truth days are all the same size and words aren't much company.
Anne Sexton
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God owns heaven but He craves the earth.
Anne Sexton
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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
Anne Sexton
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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.
Anne Sexton
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I was only sitting here in my white study with the awful black words pushing me around.
Anne Sexton
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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.
Anne Sexton
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So I won't hang around in my hospital shift, repeating The Black Mass and all of it. I say Live, Live because of the sun, the dream, the excitable gift.
Anne Sexton
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My business is words. Words are like labels, or coins, or better, like swarming bees.
Anne Sexton
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Blind with love, my daughter has cried nightly for horses, those long-necked marchers and churners that she has mastered, any and all, reigning them in like a circus hand.
Anne Sexton
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I am not at home in myself. I am my own stranger.
Anne Sexton
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Poems aren't postcards to send home.
Anne Sexton
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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.
Anne Sexton
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The tongue, the Chinese say, is like a sharp knife: it kills without drawing blood.
Anne Sexton
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It would be pleasant to be drunk.
Anne Sexton
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Evil is maybe lying to God. Or better, lying to love.
Anne Sexton