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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

More quotes by May Sarton

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Absence becomes the greatest Presence.
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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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The gift turned inward, unable to be given, becomes a heavy burden, even sometimes a kind of poison. It is as though the flow of life were backed up.
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I can understand people simply fleeing the mountainous effort Christmas has become... but there are always a few saving graces and finally they make up for all the bother and distress.
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O cruel cloudless space, And pale bare ground where the poor infant lies! Why do we feel restored As in a sacramental place? Here Mystery is artifice, And here a vision of such peace is stored, Healing flows from it through our eyes.
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What can I have that I still want?
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I write poems, have always written them, to transcend the painfully personal and reach the universal.
May Sarton
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Light is snow sifted / To an abstraction.
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we are never done with thinking about our parents, I suppose, and come to know them better long after they are dead than we ever did when they were alive.
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It is clear that we do not exactly choose our poems our poems choose us.
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There is only one real deprivation... and that is not to be able to give one's gifts to those one loves most.
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An old body when it is loved becomes a sacred treasure and sex itself must always, it seems to me, come to us as a sacrament and be so used or it is meaningless. The flesh is suffused by the spirit, and it is forgetting this in the act of love-making that creates cynicism and despair.
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... the reason why there are so few first-class poets is that many people have intense feelings or first-class minds but to get the two together so that you will be willing to put a poem through sixty drafts, to be that self-critical, to keep breaking it down, that is what is rare. Right now most poetry is just self-indulgence.
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I suppose one has to remember that 'life' is important too, though it's something I forget in some moods, everything except work seeming like an interruption or really non-life.
May Sarton
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True gardeners cannot bear a glove Between the sure touch and the tender root.
May Sarton
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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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Read between the lines.Then meet me in the silence if you can.
May Sarton
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Mountains define you. You cannot define / Them.
May Sarton
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Where music thundered let the mind be still, Where the will triumphed let there be no will, What light revealed, now let the dark fulfill.
May Sarton
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The most valuable thing we can do for the psyche, occasionally, is to let it rest, wander, live in the changing light of room, not try to be or do anything whatever.
May Sarton