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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
Bury
Sand
Somewhere
Eyes
Eye
Hate
Would
Like
Hating

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But my future is a secret. / It is as shy as a mole.
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Images are the heart of poetry ... You're not a poet without imagery.
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God owns heaven but He craves the earth.
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Meanwhile in my head, I’m undergoing open-heart surgery.
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Please God, we're all right here. Please leave us alone. Don't send death in his fat red suit and his ho-ho baritone.
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Only my books anoint me, and a few friends, those who reach into my veins.
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women are born twice.
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Give me your skin as sheer as a cobweb, let me open it up and listen in and scoop out the dark.
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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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[I] have fantasies of killing myself and thus being the powerful one not the powerless one.
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But suicides have a special language. Like carpenters they want to know which tools. They never ask why build. Twice I have so simply declared myself, have possessed the enemy, eaten the enemy, have taken on his craft, his magic.
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One of my secret instructions to myself as a poet is Whatever you do, don't be boring.
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Need is not quite belief.
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I love the word warm. It is almost unbearable-- so moist and breathlike.
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I grow old on my bitterness.
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Fear / a motor, / pumps me around and around / until I fade slowly.
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Rocks crumble, make new forms, oceans move the continents, mountains rise up and down like ghosts yet all is natural, all is change.
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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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But even in a telephone booth evil can seep out of the receiver and we must cover it with a mattress, and then tear it from its roots and bury it, bury it.
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All who love have lied.
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