Quote

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.

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
Term
Drinking
Without
Warm
Think
Cool
Thinking
Neither
Fool
Insensible
Dead
Foot
Feet
Intimate
Head
Drunk

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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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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.
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My death from the wrists, two name tags, blood worn like a corsage to bloom one on the left and one on the right.
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Then God spoke to me and said: People say only good things about Christmas. If they want to say something bad, they whisper.
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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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I lay there silently, hoarding my small dignity. I did not ask about the gate or the closet. I did not question the bedtime ritual where, on the cold bathroom tiles, I was spread out daily and examined for flaws. I did not know that my bones, those solids, those pieces of sculpture would not splinter.
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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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... a starving man doesn't ask what the meal is.
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If the doctors cure then the sun sees it. If the doctors kill then the earth hides it. The doctors should fear arrogance more than cardiac arrest.
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I burn the way money burns.
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Be careful of words, / ... they can be both daisies and bruises.
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I am torn in two but I will conquer myself.
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The day of fire is coming, the thrush will fly ablaze like a little sky rocket.
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My heart is on a budget. It keeps me on the brink.
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My life has appeared unclothed in court, detail by detail, death-bone witness by death-bone witness, and I was shamed at the verdict.
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Psychiatry is a dirty mirror.
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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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The man inside of woman ties a knot so that they will never again be separate.
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The sky breaks. It sags and breathes upon my face. in the presence of mine enemies, mine enemies The world is full of enemies. There is no safe place.
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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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