Quote

My objects dream and wear new costumes, compelled to, it seems, by all the words in my hands and the sea that bangs in my throat.

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
Objects
Words
Hands
Bangs
Dream
Costumes
Seems
Compelled
Throat
Wear
Sea

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Abundance is scooped from abundance yet abundance remains.
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Once I was beautiful. Now I am myself, Counting this row and that row of moccasins Waiting on the silent shelf.
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My sleeping pill is white. It is a splendid pearl it floats me out of myself, my stung skin as alien as a loose bolt of cloth.
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It's all a matter of history. Brandy is no solace. Librium only lies me down like a dead snow queen. Yes! I am still the criminal.
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The snow has quietness in it no songs, no smells, no shouts or traffic. When I speak my own voice shocks me.
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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.
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...became a woman who learned her own skin and dug into her soul and found it full.
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the marriage twists, holds firm, a sailor's knot.
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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'm the crazy one who thinks that words reach people.
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you see, we live in a cold climate and are not permitted to kiss on the street so I made up a song that wasn't true. I made up a song called Marriage.
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And what of the dead? They lie without shoes in the stone boats. They are more like stone than the sea would be if it stopped. They refuse to be blessed, throat, eye and knucklebone.
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There is rust in my mouth,the stain of an old kiss.
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Jesus saw the multitudes were hungry and He said, Oh Lord, send down a short-order cook.
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Let there be a heaven so that man may outlive his grasses.
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[I] have fantasies of killing myself and thus being the powerful one not the powerless one.
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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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When I lie down to love, old dwarf heart shakes her head. Like an imbecile she was born old.
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The future is a fog that is still hanging out over the sea, a boat that floats home or does not.
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As it has been said: Love and a cough cannot be concealed. Even a small cough. Even a small love.
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