Quote

True. There is a beautiful Jesus. He is frozen to his bones like a chunk of beef. How desperately he wanted to pull his arms in! How desperately I touch his vertical and horizontal axes! But I can't. Need is not quite belief.

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
Beautiful
Touch
Vertical
Wanted
Arms
Chunks
Need
Quite
Beef
Needs
Belief
Desperately
Like
Religion
Frozen
Jesus
Pull
Chunk
Christ
Bones
Axes
True
God
Horizontal

More quotes by Anne Sexton

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All I am is the trick of words writing themselves.
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My safe, safe psychosis is broken. It was hard. It was made of stone. It covered my face like a mask. But it has cracked.
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Pulling off the fat diamond engagement ring, pulling off the elopement wedding ring, and holding them, clicking them in thumb and forefinger, the indent of twenty-five years, like a tiny rip leaving its mark.
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God went out of me as if the sea dried up like sandpaper, as if the sun became a latrine. God went out of my fingers. They became stone. My body became a side of mutton and despair roamed the slaughterhouse.
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I'm an empress. I wear an apron. My typewriter writes. It didn't break the way it warned. Even crazy, I'm as nice as a chocolate bar.
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Poetry is my life, my postmark, my hands, my kitchen, my face.
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Let the light be called Day so that men may grow corn or take busses.
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All day I've built a lifetime and now the sun sinks to undo it.
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Here in the hospital, I say,that is not my body, not my body.I am not here for the doctorsto read like a recipe.
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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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God went out of me as if the sea dried up like sandpaper, as if the sun became a latrine.
Anne Sexton
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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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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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But my future is a secret. / It is as shy as a mole.
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Oh, darling, let your body in, let it tie you in, in comfort.
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being sixteen in the pants I died full of questions
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Once I was beautiful. Now I am myself, Counting this row and that row of moccasins Waiting on the silent shelf.
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To tell the truth days are all the same size and words aren't much company.
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Now that I have written many words, and let out so many loves, for so many, and been altogether what I always was a woman of excess, of zeal and greed, I find the effort useless.
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I am not lazy. I am on the amphetamine of the soul. I am, each day, typing out the God my typewriter believes in.
Anne Sexton