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Nature is full of teeth that come in one by one, then decay, fall out.

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
Decay
Teeth
Full
Fall
Nature
Come

More quotes by Anne Sexton

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Though rain curses the window let the poem be made.
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Yesterday I did not want to be borrowed but this is the typewriter that sits before me and love is where yesterday is at.
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Of course the New Testament is very small. Its mouth opens four times as out-of-date as a prehistoric monster, yet somehow man-made.
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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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I’m lost. And it’s my own fault. It’s about time I figured out that I can’t ask people to keep me found.
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When the cow gives blood and the Christ is born we must all eat sacrifices. We must all eat beautiful women.
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Emerald as heavy as a golf course, ruby as dark as an afterbirth, diamond as white as sun on the sea.
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stop the darkness and its amputations and find the real McCoy in the private holiness of my hands.
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It is in the small things we see it. The child's first step, as awesome as an earthquake. The first time you rode a bike, wallowing up the sidewalk.
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Suicides have a special language. Like carpenters they want to know which tools. They never ask why build.
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... a starving man doesn't ask what the meal is.
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Yet love enters my blood like an I.V., dripping in its little white moments.
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[I] have fantasies of killing myself and thus being the powerful one not the powerless one.
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Here in the hospital, I say,that is not my body, not my body.I am not here for the doctorsto read like a recipe.
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I've grown tired of love You are the trouble with me I watch you walk right by
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Rejoice with the day lily for it is born for a day to live by the mailbox and glorify the roadside
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I, in my brand new body, which was not a woman's yet, told the stars my questions and thought God could really see the heat and the painted light, elbows, knees, dreams, goodnight.
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It is a dead heart. It is inside of me. It is a stranger yet once it was agreeable, opening and closing like a clam.
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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.
Anne Sexton
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It would be pleasant to be drunk.
Anne Sexton