Anne Sexton Quotes
''“Everyone in me is a birdAnne Sexton, Love Poems
I am beating all my wings”''
''“I am a collection of dismantled almosts.” ''Anne Sexton, Anne Sexton: A Self-Portrait in Letters
''“Only my books anoint me,Anne Sexton, The Complete Poems
and a few friends,
those who reach into my veins.” ''
''“Love? Be it man. Be it woman.Anne Sexton, The Complete Poems
It must be a wave you want to glide in on,
give your body to it, give your laugh to it,
give, when the gravelly sand takes you,
your tears to the land. To love another is something
like prayer and cant be planned, you just fall
into its arms because your belief undoes your disbelief.” ''
''“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 cant build little white picket fences to keep the nightmares out.” ''Anne Sexton
''“Do you like me?”Anne Sexton
Silence bounced, fell off his tongue
and sat between us
and clogged my throat.
It slaughtered my trust.
It tore cigarettes out of my mouth.
We exchanged blind words,
and I did not cry,
I did not beg,
but blackness filled my ears,
blackness lunged in my heart,
and something that had been good,
a sort of kindly oxygen,
turned into a gas oven.” ''
''“Perhaps I am no one.Anne Sexton
True, I have a body
and I cannot escape from it.
I would like to fly out of my head,
but that is out of the question.” ''
''“The joy that isnt shared dies young.” ''Anne Sexton
''“All day Ive builtAnne Sexton, The Complete Poems
a lifetime and now
the sun sinks to
undo it. ”''
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45 Mercy Street
In my dream,
drilling into the marrow
of my entire bone,
my real dream,
I'm walking up and down Beacon Hill
searching for a street sign -
namely MERCY STREET.
I try the Back Bay.
And yet I know the number.
45 Mercy Street.
I know the stained-glass window
of the foyer,
the three flights of the house
with its parquet floors.
I know the furniture and
mother, grandmother, great-grandmother,
I know the cupboard of Spode
the boat of ice, solid silver,
where the ...
The Black Art
A woman who writes feels too much,
those trances and portents!
As if cycles and children and islands
weren't enough; as if mourners and gossips
and vegetables were never enough.
She thinks she can warn the stars.
A writer is essentially a spy.
Dear love, I am that girl.