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I, in my brand new body, which was not a woman's yet, told the stars my questions and thought God could really see the heat and the painted light, elbows, knees, dreams, goodnight.

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
Really
Dreams
Elbows
Told
Painted
Stars
Brand
Woman
Brands
Dream
Knees
Light
Heat
Thought
Questions
Body
Youth
Goodnight

More quotes by Anne Sexton

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I am younger each year at the first snow.
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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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Our children tremble in their teen-age cribs, whirling off on a thumb or a motorcycle.
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Despite my asbestos gloves, the cough is filling me with black, and a red powder seeps through my veins.
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Every time I get happy the Nana-hex comes through. Birds turn into plumber's tools, a sonnet turns into a dirty joke, a wind turns into a tracheotomy, a boat turns into a corpse.
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Earth, earthriding your merry-go-roundtoward extinction,right to the rootsthickening the oceans like gravy,festering in your caves,you are becoming a latrine.
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I who was a house full of bowel movement, I who was a defaced altar, I who wanted to crawl toward God could not move nor eat bread.
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Psychiatry is a dirty mirror.
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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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Once I was a couple. I was my own king and queen with cheese and bread and rosé on the rocks of Rockport.
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In a letter (no matter how quickly it is written or honestly or freely or lovingly) it is more possible to be loving and lovable, more possible to reach out and to take in ... I feel I have somehow deceived you into thinking this is really a human relationship. It is a letter relationship between humans.
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Take your foot out of the graveyard, they are busy being dead.
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Someone is dead. Even the trees know it, those poor old dancers who come on lewdly, all pea-green scarfs and spine pole.
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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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There is joy in all: in the hair I brush each morning, in the Cannon towel, newly washed, that I rub my body with each morning.
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I would like a simple life / yet all night I am laying / poems away in a long box.
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I wonder if the artist ever lives his life--he is so busy recreating it.
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There is rust in my mouth,the stain of an old kiss.
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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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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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