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The fish are naked. The fish are always awake. They are the color of old spoons and caramels.

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
Fish
Fishes
Awake
Naked
Color
Always
Caramel
Spoons

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There is a good look that I wear like a blood clot. I have sewn it over my left breast. I have made a vocation of it.
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The beautiful feeling after writing a poem is on the whole better even than after sex, and that's saying a lot.
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For I could not read or speak and on the long nights I could not turn the moon off or count the lights of cars across the ceiling.
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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.
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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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I'm the crazy one who thinks that words reach people.
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Not that it was beautiful, but that, in the end, there was a certain sense of order there something worth learning in that narrow diary of my mind
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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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To tell the truth days are all the same size and words aren't much company.
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Daisies in water are the longest lasting flower you can give to someone. Fact. Buy daisies. Not roses.
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Take adultery or theft. Merely sins. It is evil who dines on the soul, stretching out its long bone tongue. It is evil who tweezers my heart, picking out its atomic worms.
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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 grow old on my bitterness.
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