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we do not explain my husband's insane abuse and we do not say why your wild-haired wife has fled or that my father opened like a walnut and then was dead. Your palms fold over me like knees. Love is the only use.
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
Fold
Like
Wild
Folds
Husband
Palms
Dead
Opened
Wife
Knees
Walnut
Family
Walnuts
Use
Insane
Haired
Father
Explain
Fled
Love
Abuse
More quotes by Anne Sexton
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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The stars are pears that no one can reach, even for a wedding. Perhaps for a death.
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I lay there silently, hoarding my small dignity. I did not ask about the gate or the closet. I did not question the bedtime ritual where, on the cold bathroom tiles, I was spread out daily and examined for flaws. I did not know that my bones, those solids, those pieces of sculpture would not splinter.
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I hoard books. They are people who do not leave.
Anne Sexton
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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I am crazy as hell, but I know it. And knowing it is a kind of sanity that makes the sickness worse.
Anne Sexton
Mood can be as important as sense.
Anne Sexton
When I'm writing, I know I'm doing the thing I was born to do.
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Everyone in me is a bird I am beating all my wings
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Inside many of us is a small old man who wants to get out.
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Don't bite till you know if it's bread or stone.
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I see myself as one would see another. I have been cut in two.
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I rot on the wall, my own Dorian Gray.
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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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Let there be seasons so that our tongues will be rich in asparagus and limes.
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Suddenly I'm not half the girl I used to be. There's a shadow hanging over me . . . From me to you out of my electric devil.
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Poetry is my life, my postmark, my hands, my kitchen, my face.
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The body is a damn hard thing to kill.
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And the aura of you remains, remains, remains...
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Sometimes the soul takes pictures of things it has wished for, but never seen.
Anne Sexton
