Quote

He [the cat] wound himself around her legs, purring the purr of ardent desire like a kettle coming to a boil and then bubbling very fast.

May Sarton

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May Sarton
Age: 83 †
Born: 1912
Born: May 3
Died: 1995
Died: July 16
Diarist
Poet
Writer
May Eleanor Sarton
Wounds
Purr
Cat
Kettle
Legs
Bubbling
Fast
Purring
Coming
Kettles
Desire
Boil
Around
Ardent
Like
Wound

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About loving, I have little to learn from the young.
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We are all, whether we know it or not, in search of a way to enrich, to drink during the fizz, to inhale deeper our gifts, in a desperation for some little understanding before death.
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Public education was not founded to give society what it wants. Quite the opposite.
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Nobody stays special when they're old, Anna. That's what we have to learn.
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The minute one utters a certainty, the opposite comes to mind.
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Mountains define you. You cannot define / Them.
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It is curious how any making of order makes one feel mentally ordered, ordered inside.
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For inside all the weakness of old age, the spirit, God knows, is as mercurial as it ever was.
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Am I too old, perhaps, ever to take in another's life to share with mine on a permanent basis? If so, I must make do with what I have... and what I have is a great richness of friends and a positively ardent love of nature. Not nothing!
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A body without bones would be a limp impossible mess, so a day without steady routine would be disruptive and chaotic.
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Human relations just are not fixed in their orbits like the planets -- they're more like galaxies, changing all the time, exploding into light for years, then dying away.
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Where joy in an old pencil is not absurd.
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What we have not has made us what we are. / ... / What we are not drives us to consummation.
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People who cannot feel punish those who do.
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Anyone who is going to be a writer knows enough at fifteen to write several novels.
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For to be desperate is to discover strength. / We die of comfort and by conflict live.
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The ambience here is order and beauty. That is what frightens me when I am first alone again. I feel inadequate. I have made an open place, a place for meditation. What if I cannot find myself inside it?
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“How does one grow up?” I asked a friend the other day. There was a slight pause then she answered, “By thinking.”
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making order out of disorder any time, anywhere, can be regarded as a sacrament.
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Why is it that people who cannot show feeling presume that that is a strength and not a weakness?
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