Quote

Once upon a time we were all born, popped out like jelly rolls forgetting our fishdom, the pleasuring seas, the country of comfort, spanked into the oxygens of death.

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
Death
Forgetting
Country
Oxygen
Time
Sea
Like
Comfort
Spanked
Birth
Popped
Forget
Jelly
Upon
Rolls
Born
Seas

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I wonder if the artist ever lives his life--he is so busy recreating it.
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Suicide is, after all, the opposite of the poem.
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O yellow eye, let me be sick with your heat, let me be feverish and frowning.
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I imitatea memory of beliefthat I do not own.
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Why are all these dolls falling out of the sky? Was there a father? Or have the planets cut holes in their nets and let our childhood out, or are we the dolls themselves, born but never fed?
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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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this is no dream just my oily life where the people are alibis and the street is unfindable for an entire lifetime.
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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.
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Mood can be as important as sense.
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It's all a matter of history. Brandy is no solace. Librium only lies me down like a dead snow queen. Yes! I am still the criminal.
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Give me your skin as sheer as a cobweb, let me open it up and listen in and scoop out the dark.
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being sixteen in the pants I died full of questions
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All I wanted was a little piece of life, to be married, to have children.... I was trying my damnedest to lead a conventional life, for that was how I was brought up, and it was what my husband wanted of me. But one can't build little white picket fences to keep the nightmares out.
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I grow old on my bitterness.
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There is rust in my mouth,the stain of an old kiss.
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Now I am just an elderly lady who is full of spleen, who humps around greater Boston in a God-awful hat, who never lived and yet outlived her time, hating men and dogs and Democrats.
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There is hope. There is hope everywhere. Today God give milk and I have the pail.
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Maybe, although my heart is a kitten of butter, I am blowing it up like a zeppelin.
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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.
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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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