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I'm an empress. I wear an apron. My typewriter writes. It didn't break the way it warned. Even crazy, I'm as nice as a chocolate bar.
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
Writing
Chocolate
Empress
Even
Bars
Empresses
Way
Illness
Apron
Wear
Aprons
Crazy
Typewriter
Break
Typewriters
Nice
Warned
Didn
Writes
More quotes by Anne Sexton
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.
Anne Sexton
Don’t worry if they say you’re crazy. They said that about me and yet I was saner than all of them. I knew. No matter. You know. Insane or sane, you know. It’s a good thing to know - no matter what they call it.
Anne Sexton
Nature is full of teeth that come in one by one, then decay, fall out.
Anne Sexton
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.
Anne Sexton
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.
Anne Sexton
Need is not quite belief.
Anne Sexton
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.
Anne Sexton
I burn the way money burns.
Anne Sexton
Fear / a motor, / pumps me around and around / until I fade slowly.
Anne Sexton
I think of myself as writing for one person, that one perfect reader who understands and loves.
Anne Sexton
I rot on the wall, my own Dorian Gray.
Anne Sexton
The place I live in is a kind of maze and I keep seeking the exit or the home.
Anne Sexton
The tongue, the Chinese say, is like a sharp knife: it kills without drawing blood.
Anne Sexton
Be careful of words, / ... they can be both daisies and bruises.
Anne Sexton
My husband sings Baa Baa black sheep and we pretend that all's certain and good, that the marriage won't end.
Anne Sexton
We talked death with burned-up intensity, both of us drawn to it like moths to an electric light bulb. Sucking on it!
Anne Sexton
Poets are sitting in my kitchen. Why do these poets lie? Why do children get children and Did you hear what it said?
Anne Sexton
The day of fire is coming, the thrush will fly ablaze like a little sky rocket.
Anne Sexton
Poems aren't postcards to send home.
Anne Sexton
I think I've been writing black poems all along, wearing my white mask. I'm always the victim ... but no longer!
Anne Sexton