Quote

Yes, I know. Death sits with his key in my lock. Not one day is taken for granted. Even nursery rhymes have put me in hock.

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
Taken
Nursery
Death
Lock
Even
Sits
Locks
Rhyme
Mortality
Hock
Granted
Rhymes
Keys
Carpe

More quotes by Anne Sexton

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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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And if I tried to give you something else, something outside myself, you would not know that the worst of anyone can be, finally, an accident of hope
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Even so, I must admire your skill. You are so gracefully insane.
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Somebody who should have been born is gone.
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I have forgiven all the old actors for dying. A new one comes on with the same lines, like large white growths, in his mouth. The dancers come on from the wings, perfectly mated.
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The soul was not cured, it was as full as a clothes closet of dresses that did not fit.
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The family story tells, and it was told true, of my great-grandfather who begat eight genius children and bought twelve almost new grand pianos. He left a considerable estate when he died.
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At six I lived in a graveyard full of dolls, avoiding myself, my body, the suspect in its grotesque house.
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Our children tremble in their teen-age cribs, whirling off on a thumb or a motorcycle.
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Now I am going back And I have ripped my hand From your hand as I said I would And I have made it this far.
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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 try to take care and be gentle to them. Words and eggs must be handled with care. Once broken they are impossible things to repair.
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God owns heaven but He craves the earth.
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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.
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I will be steel! I will build a steel bridge over my need! I will build a bomb shelter over my heart! But my future is a secret. It is as shy as a mole.
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Put your ear down close to your soul and listen hard.
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I lay there silently, hoarding my small dignity. I did not ask about the gate or the closet. I did not question the bedtime ritual where, on the cold bathroom tiles, I was spread out daily and examined for flaws. I did not know that my bones, those solids, those pieces of sculpture would not splinter.
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Sometimes I fly like an eagle but with the wings of a wren
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Saints have no moderation, nor do poets, just exuberance.
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we do not explain my husband's insane abuse and we do not say why your wild-haired wife has fled or that my father opened like a walnut and then was dead. Your palms fold over me like knees. Love is the only use.
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