Quote

My ideas are a curse. They spring from a radical discontent with the awful order of things. I play clown. I play carpenter. I play nurse. I play witch.

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
Play
Curse
Things
Radical
Awful
Criticism
Carpenter
Spring
Discontent
Inspirational
Clown
Order
Witch
Ideas
Nurse

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I am torn in two but I will conquer myself.
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I was spread out dailyand examined for flaws.
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Even without wars, life is dangerous.
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But my future is a secret. / It is as shy as a mole.
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The Saints come, as human as a mouth, with a bag of God in their backs, like a hunchback, they come, they come marching in.
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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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We are America. We are the coffin fillers. We are the grocers of death. We pack them in crates like cauliflowers.
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All considerations for these human remains! They must have an escort! They are classified!
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No matter whose bed you die in the bed will be yours for your voyage onto the surgical andiron of God.
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It would be pleasant to be drunk.
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Mood can be as important as sense.
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I think I've been writing black poems all along, wearing my white mask. I'm always the victim ... but no longer!
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... and my love stays bitterly glowing, spasms of it will not sleep, and I am helpless and thirsty and need shade but there is no one to cover me- not even God.
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Meanwhile in my head, I’m undergoing open-heart surgery.
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I would like a simple life / yet all night I am laying / poems away in a long box.
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Images are the heart of poetry ... You're not a poet without imagery.
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I am in my own mind. I am locked in the wrong house.
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Suicide is, after all, the opposite of the poem.
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it was my first doll that water went into and water came out of much earlier it was the diaper I wore and the dirt thereof and my mother hating me for it
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Once upon a time we were all born, popped out like jelly rolls forgetting our fishdom, the pleasuring seas, the country of comfort, spanked into the oxygens of death.
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