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What's missing is the eyeballs in each of us, but it doesn't matter because you've got the bucks, the bucks, the bucks.

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
Eyeballs
Bucks
Missing
Doesn
Money
Matter

More quotes by Anne Sexton

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Meanwhile in my head, I’m undergoing open-heart surgery.
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Blue eyes wash off sometimes.
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I am younger each year at the first snow. When I see it, suddenly, in the air, all little and white and moving then I am in love again and very young and I believe everything.
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Blind with love, my daughter has cried nightly for horses, those long-necked marchers and churners that she has mastered, any and all, reigning them in like a circus hand.
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My husband sings Baa Baa black sheep and we pretend that all's certain and good, that the marriage won't end.
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Yes I try to kill myself in small amounts, an innocuous occupation. Actually I'm hung up on it.
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To die whole, riddled with nothing but desire for it, is like breakfast after love.
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I'm hunting for the truth. It might be a kind of poetic truth, and not just a factual one, because behind everything that happens to you, there is another truth, a secret life.
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Rocks crumble, make new forms, oceans move the continents, mountains rise up and down like ghosts yet all is natural, all is change.
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It's a little mad, but I believe I am many people. When I am writing a poem, I feel I am the person who should have written it.
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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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Evil is maybe lying to God. Or better, lying to love.
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I am teaching... This year it's kind of like having a love affair with a rhinoceros.
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Then God spoke to me and said: People say only good things about Christmas. If they want to say something bad, they whisper.
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My life has appeared unclothed in court, detail by detail, death-bone witness by death-bone witness, and I was shamed at the verdict.
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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 tell you what you’ll never really know: all the medical hypothesis that explained my brain will never be as true as these struck leaves letting go.
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Fear / a motor, / pumps me around and around / until I fade slowly.
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All who love have lied.
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I think it will be a miracle if I don't someday end up killing myself.
Anne Sexton