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unless I can shake myself free of my dog, my flag, of my desk, my mind, I find life a bit of a drag. Not always, mind you. Usually I'm like my frying pan useful, graceful, sturdy and with no caper, no plan.
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
Graceful
Bits
Drag
Desk
Free
Boredom
Desks
Find
Useful
Flag
Mind
Dog
Flags
Caper
Always
Plan
Capers
Life
Usually
Shake
Frying
Like
Plans
Contentment
Sturdy
Unless
Shakes
More quotes by Anne Sexton
I tell you what you’ll never really know: all the medical hypothesis that explained my brain will never be as true as these struck leaves letting go.
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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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There is an animal inside me, clutching fast to my heart, a huge crab.
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I wonder if the artist ever lives his life--he is so busy recreating it.
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... a starving man doesn't ask what the meal is.
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The tongue, the Chinese say, is like a sharp knife: it kills without drawing blood.
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Suddenly I'm not half the girl I used to be. There's a shadow hanging over me . . . From me to you out of my electric devil.
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To be without God is to be a snake / who wants to swallow an elephant.
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Well, one gets out of bed and the planets don't always hiss or muck up the day, each day.
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The grass as bristly and stout as chives and me wondering when the ground will break and me wondering how anything fragile survives
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A woman / who loves a woman / is forever young.
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Father, you died once, salted down at fifty-nine, packed down like a big snow angel, wasn't that enough?
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Let the light be called Day so that men may grow corn or take busses.
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I grow old on my bitterness.
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Thief!- how did you crawl into, crawl down alone into the death I wanted so badly and for so long.
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The town is silent. The night boils with eleven stars. Oh starry starry night! This is how I want to die.
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I am tearing the feathers out of the pillows, waiting, waiting for Daddy to come home and stuff me so full of our infected child that I turn invisible, but married, at last.
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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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Inside many of us is a small old man who wants to get out.
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You who have inhabited me in the deepest and most broken place, are going, going
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