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I would like to bury all the hating eyes under the sand somewhere.

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
Somewhere
Eyes
Eye
Hate
Would
Like
Hating
Bury
Sand

More quotes by Anne Sexton

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If the doctors cure then the sun sees it. If the doctors kill then the earth hides it. The doctors should fear arrogance more than cardiac arrest.
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Man is a bird full of mud, I say aloud. And death looks on with a casual eye and scratches his anus.
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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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I am stuffing your mouth with your promises and watching you vomit them out upon my face.
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If you meet a cross-eyed person you must plunge into the grass, alongside the chilly ants, fish through the green fingernails and come up with the four-leaf clover.
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What's missing is the eyeballs in each of us, but it doesn't matter because you've got the bucks, the bucks, the bucks.
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The future is a fog that is still hanging out over the sea, a boat that floats home or does not.
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the heart, this child of myself that resides in the flesh, this ultimate signature of the me, the start of my blindness and sleep, builds a death crèche.
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I cannot walk an inch / without trying to walk to God.
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Mood can be as important as sense.
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Jesus saw the multitudes were hungry and He said, Oh Lord, send down a short-order cook.
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My objects dream and wear new costumes, compelled to, it seems, by all the words in my hands and the sea that bangs in my throat.
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Oh, darling, let your body in, let it tie you in, in comfort.
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I who was a house full of bowel movement, I who was a defaced altar, I who wanted to crawl toward God could not move nor eat bread.
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Daisies in water are the longest lasting flower you can give to someone. Fact. Buy daisies. Not roses.
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And if I tried to give you something else, something outside myself, you would not know that the worst of anyone can be, finally, an accident of hope
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I have been cut in two.
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Let God be some tribal female who is known but forbidden.
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unless I can shake myself free of my dog, my flag, of my desk, my mind, I find life a bit of a drag. Not always, mind you. Usually I'm like my frying pan useful, graceful, sturdy and with no caper, no plan.
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The little girl skipped by under the wrinkled oak leaves and held fast to a replica of herself.
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