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I would sell my life to avoid the pain that begins in the crib with its bars or perhaps with your first breath when the planets drill your future into you.
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
Perhaps
Bars
Future
Sell
Pain
Breath
Firsts
Breaths
First
Sells
Would
Begins
Crib
Life
Avoid
Drill
Planets
Drills
More quotes by Anne Sexton
I am tearing the feathers out of the pillows, waiting, waiting for Daddy to come home and stuff me so full of our infected child that I turn invisible, but married, at last.
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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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As a writer one has to take the chance on being a fool.
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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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I burn the way money burns.
Anne Sexton
We are America. We are the coffin fillers. We are the grocers of death. We pack them in crates like cauliflowers.
Anne Sexton
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.
Anne Sexton
What a lay me down this is with two pink, two orange, two green, two white goodnights.
Anne Sexton
Look to your heart that flutters in and out like a moth. God is not indifferent to your need. You have a thousand prayers but God has one.
Anne Sexton
I can only sign over everything, the house, the dog, the ladders, the jewels, the soul, the family tree, the mailbox. Then I can sleep. Maybe.
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I love the word warm. It is almost unbearable-- so moist and breathlike.
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I tell it stories now and then and feed it images like honey. I will not speculate today with poems that think they're money.
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One can't build little white picket fences to keep nightmares out.
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Our children tremble in their teen-age cribs, whirling off on a thumb or a motorcycle.
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Poor thing. To die and never see Brooklyn.
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When I'm writing, I know I'm doing the thing I was born to do.
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stop the darkness and its amputations and find the real McCoy in the private holiness of my hands.
Anne Sexton
Nature is full of teeth that come in one by one, then decay, fall out.
Anne Sexton
I like you your eyes are full of language. [Letter to Anne Clarke, July 3, 1964.]
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Perhaps I am no one. True, I have a body and I cannot escape from it. I would like to fly out of my head, but that is out of the question.
Anne Sexton