Quote

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.

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
Days
Carried
Religion
Foot
Jesus
Forty
Night
God
Men
Fronts
Front
Became
Heavier
Feet
Nights

More quotes by Anne Sexton

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Perhaps I am no one. True, I have a body and I cannot escape from it. I would like to fly out of my head, but that is out of the question.
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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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Dead drunk is the term I think of, insensible, neither cool nor warm, without a head or a foot. To be drunk is to be intimate with a fool.
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The joy that isn't shared dies young.
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I tell you what you’ll never really know: all the medical hypothesis that explained my brain will never be as true as these struck leaves letting go.
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Every time I get happy the Nana-hex comes through. Birds turn into plumber's tools, a sonnet turns into a dirty joke, a wind turns into a tracheotomy, a boat turns into a corpse.
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I am out of practice at living. You are as brave as a motorcycle.
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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
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When they turn the sun on again I'll plant children under it, I'll light up my soul with a match and let it sing.
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Death's in the good-bye.
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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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And what of the dead? They lie without shoes in the stone boats. They are more like stone than the sea would be if it stopped. They refuse to be blessed, throat, eye and knucklebone.
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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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I try to take care and be gentle to them. Words and eggs must be handled with care. Once broken they are impossible things to repair.
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I raise my pelvis to God so that it may know the truth of how flowers smash through the long winter.
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Thief!- how did you crawl into, crawl down alone into the death I wanted so badly and for so long.
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When I'm writing, I know I'm doing the thing I was born to do.
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Don't bite till you know if it's bread or stone.
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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.
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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.
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