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My faith is a great weight hung on a small wire, as doth the spider hang her baby on a thin web.
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
Hung
Hang
Weight
Baby
Spider
Small
Spiders
Faith
Doth
Great
Wire
Thin
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The tongue, the Chinese say, is like a sharp knife: it kills without drawing blood.
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I leave you, home, when I'm ripped from the doorstep by commerce or fate. Then I submit to the awful subway of the world.
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Somebody who should have been born is gone. Yes, woman, such logic will lead to loss without death. Or say what you meant, you coward . . . this baby that I bleed.
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the marriage twists, holds firm, a sailor's knot.
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Today God gives milk / and I have the pail.
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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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As it has been said: Love and a cough cannot be concealed. Even a small cough. Even a small love.
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Not that it was beautiful, but that I found some order there.
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To die whole, riddled with nothing but desire for it, is like breakfast after love.
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Then God spoke to me and said: People say only good things about Christmas. If they want to say something bad, they whisper.
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For I could not read or speak and on the long nights I could not turn the moon off or count the lights of cars across the ceiling.
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Poets are sitting in my kitchen. Why do these poets lie? Why do children get children and Did you hear what it said?
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Our eyes are full of terrible confessions.
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You must be a poet, a lady of evil luck desiring to be what you are not, longing to be what you can only visit.
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