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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.
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
Alone
Contentment
Death
Fats
Right
Suits
Send
Red
God
Baritone
Please
Baritones
Leave
Suit
More quotes by Anne Sexton
When someone kisses someone or flushes the toilet it is my other who sits in a ball and cries. My other beats a tin drum in my heart. My other hangs up laundry as I try to sleep. My other cries and cries and cries when I put on a cocktail dress.
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I'm an empress. I wear an apron. My typewriter writes. It didn't break the way it warned. Even crazy, I'm as nice as a chocolate bar.
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Love your self's self where it lives.
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All who love have lied.
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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.
Anne Sexton
There is no word for time. Today we will not think to number another summer or watch its white bird into the ground.
Anne Sexton
I think of myself as writing for one person, that one perfect reader who understands and loves.
Anne Sexton
Our eyes are full of terrible confessions.
Anne Sexton
Pulling off the fat diamond engagement ring, pulling off the elopement wedding ring, and holding them, clicking them in thumb and forefinger, the indent of twenty-five years, like a tiny rip leaving its mark.
Anne Sexton
As for me, I am a watercolor. I wash off.
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To die whole, riddled with nothing but desire for it, is like breakfast after love.
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Meanwhile in my head, I’m undergoing open-heart surgery.
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True. There is a beautiful Jesus. He is frozen to his bones like a chunk of beef. How desperately he wanted to pull his arms in! How desperately I touch his vertical and horizontal axes! But I can't. Need is not quite belief.
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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.
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Oh thumb, I want a drink it is dark, where are the big people, when will I get there...?
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God owns heaven but He craves the earth.
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As a writer one has to take the chance on being a fool.
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I am out of practice at living. You are as brave as a motorcycle.
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Somebody who should have been born is gone. Yes, woman, such logic will lead to loss without death. Or say what you meant, you coward . . . this baby that I bleed.
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Though rain curses the window let the poem be made.
Anne Sexton