Real joy is becoming exceedingly rare among artists of any kind. And I have an idea that those who can and do… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
It is dangerous it seems to me for a civilization when there is a complete abyss betewen people in general and the… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
If we are to understand the human condition, and if we are to accept ourselves in all the complexity, self-doubt, extravagance of… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
If art is not to be life-enhancing, what is it to be? Half the world is feminine - why is there resentment… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
We can do anything, or almost, but how balanced, magnanimous, and modest one has to be to do anything! And also how… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
More than any other beauty (though it is true of all beauty except in art) passion seems to me to have the… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
If art is not to be life-enhancing, what is it to be? Half the world is feminine--why is there resentment at a… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
Failure would only be if you had somewhere stopped growing. As far as I can see the whole duty of the artist… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
The woman who needs to create works of art is born with a kind of psychic tension in her which drives her… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
“When I speak of life and love as expanding with age, sex seems the least important thing. At any age we grow… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
“I felt pain like an assault, The old pain again When the world thrusts itself inside, When we have to take in the outside,… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
This suspension of one's own reality, this being entirely alone in a strange city (at times I wondered if I had lost the power… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
Real joy is becoming exceedingly rare among artists of any kind. And I have an idea that those who can and do communicate it… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
For to be desperate is to discover strength. / We die of comfort and by conflict live. — May Sarton Copy Share Image
“I see you with that shell Held to your sensitive abstracted ear, Hunting the ocean’s rumor till you hear it well, Until you can… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
There is a wilder solitude in winter When every sense is pricked alive and keen. — May Sarton Copy Share Image
I long for the bulbs to arrive, for the early autumn chores are melancholy, but the planting of bulbs is the work of hope… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
Why is it that people who cannot show feeling presume that that is a strength and not a weakness? — May Sarton Copy Share Image
Innocence is not pure so much as pleased, Always expectant, bright-eyed, self-enclosed — May Sarton Copy Share Image
