Quote

Oh sharp diamond, my mother! I could not count the cost of all your faces, your moods that present that I lost. Sweet girl, my deathbed, my jewel-fingered lady...

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
Girl
Diamond
Lost
Lady
Mother
Count
Fingered
Mood
Deathbed
Cost
Jewel
Sweet
Moods
Present
Jewels
Faces
Sharp

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Take your foot out of the graveyard, they are busy being dead.
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My mouth blooms like a cut.
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Talk to me about sadness. I talk about it too much in my own head but I never mind others talking about it either I occasionally feel like I tremendously need others to talk about it as well.
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It is in the small things we see it. The child's first step, as awesome as an earthquake. The first time you rode a bike, wallowing up the sidewalk.
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Not that it was beautiful, but that I found some order there.
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Everyone in me is a bird I am beating all my wings
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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.
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Only my books anoint me, and a few friends, those who reach into my veins.
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Watch out for intellect, because it knows so much it knows nothing and leaves you hanging upside down, mouthing knowledge as your heart falls out of your mouth.
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As it has been said: Love and a cough cannot be concealed. Even a small cough. Even a small love.
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I am out of practice at living. You are as brave as a motorcycle.
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Cinderella and the prince lived, they say, happily ever after, like two dolls in a museum case never bothered by diapers or dust, never arguing over the timing of an egg, never telling the same story twice.
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Don't bite till you know if it's bread or stone.
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Jesus saw the multitudes were hungry and He said, Oh Lord, send down a short-order cook.
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O yellow eye, let me be sick with your heat, let me be feverish and frowning.
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