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To die whole, riddled with nothing but desire for it, is like breakfast after love.

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
Satisfaction
Dies
Desire
Nothing
Whole
Love
Riddled
Like
Breakfast
Longing

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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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At six I lived in a graveyard full of dolls, avoiding myself, my body, the suspect in its grotesque house.
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My eyes, those sluts, those whores, would play no more.
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Craft is a trick you make up to let you write the poem.
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Meanwhile in my head, I’m undergoing open-heart surgery.
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Depression is boring, I think and I would do better to make some soup and light up the cave.
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I'm the crazy one who thinks that words reach people.
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I love the word warm. It is almost unbearable-- so moist and breathlike.
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Somebody who should have been born is gone.
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Cinderella and the prince lived, they say, happily ever after, like two dolls in a museum case never bothered by diapers or dust, never arguing over the timing of an egg, never telling the same story twice.
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In an old time there was a king as wise as a dictionary.
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I wonder if the artist ever lives his life--he is so busy recreating it.
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My husband sings Baa Baa black sheep and we pretend that all's certain and good, that the marriage won't end.
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Saints have no moderation, nor do poets, just exuberance.
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The tongue, the Chinese say, is like a sharp knife: it kills without drawing blood.
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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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Blind with love, my daughter has cried nightly for horses, those long-necked marchers and churners that she has mastered, any and all, reigning them in like a circus hand.
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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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life is a trick, life is a kitten in a sack.
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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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