Quote

It is a dead heart. It is inside of me. It is a stranger yet once it was agreeable, opening and closing like a clam.

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
Inside
Dead
Heart
Clam
Like
Clams
Agreeable
Closing
Stranger
Opening

More quotes by Anne Sexton

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And what of the dead? They lie without shoes in the stone boats. They are more like stone than the sea would be if it stopped. They refuse to be blessed, throat, eye and knucklebone.
Anne Sexton
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bike downtown, stick out tongues at the Catholics. Or form a Piss Club where we all go in the bushes and peek at each other's sex.
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I would like to think that no one would die anymore if we all believed in daisies but the worms know better, don't they? They slide into the ear of a corpse and listen to his great sigh.
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I’m lost. And it’s my own fault. It’s about time I figured out that I can’t ask people to keep me found.
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The day of fire is coming, the thrush will fly ablaze like a little sky rocket.
Anne Sexton
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... a starving man doesn't ask what the meal is.
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We talked death with burned-up intensity, both of us drawn to it like moths to an electric light bulb. Sucking on it!
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I hoard books. They are people who do not leave.
Anne Sexton
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I am out of practice at living. You are as brave as a motorcycle.
Anne Sexton
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I would like to bury all the hating eyes under the sand somewhere.
Anne Sexton
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Put your ear down close to your soul and listen hard.
Anne Sexton
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In a dream you are never eighty.
Anne Sexton
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And if I tried to give you something else, something outside myself, you would not know that the worst of anyone can be, finally, an accident of hope
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Poetry is my life, my postmark, my hands, my kitchen, my face.
Anne Sexton
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Somebody who should have been born is gone.
Anne Sexton
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In an old time there was a king as wise as a dictionary.
Anne Sexton
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But even in a telephone booth evil can seep out of the receiver and we must cover it with a mattress, and then tear it from its roots and bury it, bury it.
Anne Sexton
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I grow old on my bitterness.
Anne Sexton
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I brush my hair, waiting in the pain machine for my bones to get hard, for the soft, soft bones that were laid apart and were screwed together. They will knit. And the other corpse, the fractured heart, I feed it piecemeal, little chalice. I'm good to it.
Anne Sexton
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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.
Anne Sexton