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I love the word warm. It is almost unbearable-- so moist and breathlike.

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
Experience
Love
Moist
Unbearable
Warmth
Warm
Almost
Word

More quotes by Anne Sexton

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As it has been said: Love and a cough cannot be concealed. Even a small cough. Even a small love.
Anne Sexton
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Don’t worry if they say you’re crazy. They said that about me and yet I was saner than all of them. I knew. No matter. You know. Insane or sane, you know. It’s a good thing to know - no matter what they call it.
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I burn the way money burns.
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In an old time there was a king as wise as a dictionary.
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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.
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Take adultery or theft. Merely sins. It is evil who dines on the soul, stretching out its long bone tongue. It is evil who tweezers my heart, picking out its atomic worms.
Anne Sexton
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Death, I need my little addiction to you. I need that tiny voice who, even as I rise from the sea, all woman, all there, says kill me, kill me.
Anne Sexton
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I am not at home in myself. I am my own stranger.
Anne Sexton
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Come, my pretender, my fritter, my bubbler, my chicken biddy! Oh succulent one, it is but one turn in the road and I would be a cannibal!
Anne Sexton
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I sit at my desk each night with no place to go, opening the wrinkled maps of Milwaukee and Buffalo, the whole U.S., its cemeteries, its arbitrary time zones, through routes like small veins, capitals like small stones.
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Evil is maybe lying to God. Or better, lying to love.
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What's the point of fighting the dollars when all you need is a warm bed? When the dog barks you let him in. All we need is someone to let us in. And one other thing: to consider the lilies in the field.
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Poetry to me is prayer.
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When they turn the sun on again I'll plant children under it, I'll light up my soul with a match and let it sing.
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I was the girl of the chain letter, the girl full of talk of coffins and keyholes, the one of the telephone bills, the wrinkled photo and the lost connections.
Anne Sexton
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Take a woman talking, purging herself with rhymes, drumming words out like a typewriter, planting words in you like grass seed. You'll move off.
Anne Sexton
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All who love have lied.
Anne Sexton
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sorrow is easier than guilt.
Anne Sexton
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I am teaching... This year it's kind of like having a love affair with a rhinoceros.
Anne Sexton
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Suicides have a special language. Like carpenters they want to know which tools. They never ask why build.
Anne Sexton