Quote

Watch out for love (unless it is true, and every part of you says yes including the toes), it will wrap you up like a mummy, and your scream won't be heard and none of your running will run.

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
Like
Emotion
Caution
Says
Toes
Heard
Scream
Running
Including
True
None
Part
Watches
Mummy
Every
Watch
Wrap
Love
Unless
Wraps

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All who love have lied.
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Now, in my middle age, about nineteen in the head I'd say, I am rowing, I am rowing.
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The tongue, the Chinese say, is like a sharp knife: it kills without drawing blood.
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Today is made of yesterday, each time I steal toward rites I do not know, waiting for the lost ingredient, as if salt or money or even lust would keep us calm and prove us whole at last.
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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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To love another is somethinglike prayer and it can't be planned, you just fallinto its arms because your belief undoes your disbelief.
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Poetry to me is prayer.
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The place I live in is a kind of maze and I keep seeking the exit or the home.
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Put your mouthful of words away and come with me to watch the lilies open in such a field, growing there like yachts, slowly steering their petals without nurses or clocks.
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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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I find now, swallowing one teaspoon of pain, that it drops downward to the past where it mixes with last year’s cupful and downward into a decade’s quart and downward into a lifetime’s ocean. I alternate treading water and deadman’s float.
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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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Dead drunk is the term I think of, insensible, neither cool nor warm, without a head or a foot. To be drunk is to be intimate with a fool.
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Somebody who should have been born is gone.
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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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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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I would like a simple life / yet all night I am laying / poems away in a long box.
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Women tell time by the body. They are like clocks. They are always fastened to the earth, listening for its small animal noises.
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It was as if a morning-glory had bloomed in her throat, and all that blue and small pollen ate into my heart, violent and religious
Anne Sexton
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One can't build little white picket fences to keep nightmares out.
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