Quote

I want to kiss God on His nose and watch Him sneeze and so do you. Not out of disrespect. Out of pique. Out of a man-to-man thing.

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
Watch
Sneeze
Jesus
Disrespect
Christ
Nose
Thing
Noses
Men
Kiss
Kissing
God
Watches
Pique

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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.
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Love? Be it man. Be it woman. It must be a wave you want to glide in on, give your body to it, give your laugh to it, give, when the gravelly sand takes you, your tears to the land. To love another is something like prayer and can't be planned, you just fall into its arms because your belief undoes your disbelief.
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No one to hate except the slim fish of memory that slides in and out of my brain.
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But my future is a secret. / It is as shy as a mole.
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Inside many of us is a small old man who wants to get out.
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Bless all useful objects, the spoons made of bone, the mattress I cook my dreams upon, the typewriter that is my church with an altar of keys always waiting.
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The sanest thing in this world is love.
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I am not lazy. I am on the amphetamine of the soul. I am, each day, typing out the God my typewriter believes in.
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I was spread out dailyand examined for flaws.
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The sea is mother-death and she is a mighty female, the one who wins, the one who sucks us all up.
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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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Take your foot out of the graveyard, they are busy being dead.
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They [daisies] are my favorite flower. There is something innocent and vulnerable about them as if they thanked you for admiring them.
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There is rust in my mouth,the stain of an old kiss.
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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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women are born twice.
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I imitatea memory of beliefthat I do not own.
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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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Poor thing. To die and never see Brooklyn.
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One can't build little white picket fences to keep nightmares out.
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