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this is no dream just my oily life where the people are alibis and the street is unfindable for an entire lifetime.

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
Loss
Streets
Dream
Life
Oily
People
Alibis
Street
Lifetime
Entire

More quotes by Anne Sexton

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Maybe I am becoming a hermit, opening the door for only a few special animals? Maybe my skull is too crowded and it has no opening through which to feed it soup?
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The joy that isn't shared dies young.
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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.
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Yes, I know. Death sits with his key in my lock. Not one day is taken for granted. Even nursery rhymes have put me in hock.
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Though rain curses the window let the poem be made.
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Everyone has left me except my muse, that good nurse. She stays in my hand, a mild white mouse.
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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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Inside many of us is a small old man who wants to get out.
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I'm hunting for the truth. It might be a kind of poetic truth, and not just a factual one, because behind everything that happens to you, there is another truth, a secret life.
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The stars are pears that no one can reach, even for a wedding. Perhaps for a death.
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Thumbs grow into my throat. I wear slaps like a spot of rouge.
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My business is words. Words are like labels, or coins, or better, like swarming bees.
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Loving me with my shoes off means loving my long brown legs, sweet dears, as good as spoons and my feet, those two children let out to play naked.
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I want to kiss God on His nose and watch Him sneeze and so do you. Not out of disrespect. Out of pique. Out of a man-to-man thing.
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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.
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I have a black look I do not like. It is a mask I try on. I migrate toward it and its frog sits on my lips and defecates.
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Nature is full of teeth that come in one by one, then decay, fall out.
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As a writer one has to take the chance on being a fool.
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Evil is maybe lying to God. Or better, lying to love.
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Take your foot out of the graveyard, they are busy being dead.
Anne Sexton