The stars are pears that no one can reach, even for a wedding. Perhaps for a death. — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
“Death, with one-eyed jack in his hand, makes a promise to the thirteenth child.” — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
My death from the wrists, two name tags, blood worn like a corsage to bloom one on the left and one on… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
the heart, this child of myself that resides in the flesh, this ultimate signature of the me, the start of my blindness… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
Yes, I know. Death sits with his key in my lock. Not one day is taken for granted. Even nursery rhymes have… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
“God shined his laughter down upon us like a giant heat lamp and therefore we did not cringe at the death hole” — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
Somebody who should have been born is gone. Yes, woman, such logic will lead to loss without death. Or say what you… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
We are America. We are the coffin fillers. We are the grocers of death. We pack them in crates like cauliflowers. — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
We talked death with burned-up intensity, both of us drawn to it like moths to an electric light bulb. Sucking on it! — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
Please God, we're all right here. Please leave us alone. Don't send death in his fat red suit and his ho-ho baritone. — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
“Anne, I don't want to live. . . . Now listen, life is lovely, but I Can't Live It. I can't even… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
The silence is death. It comes each day with its shock to sit on my shoulder, a white bird, and peck at… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
Thief!- how did you crawl into, crawl down alone into the death I wanted so badly and for so long ... — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
Once upon a time we were all born, popped out like jelly rolls forgetting our fishdom, the pleasuring seas, the country of… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
Man is a bird full of mud, I say aloud. And death looks on with a casual eye and scratches his anus. — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
“For God was as large as a sunlamp and laughed his heat at us and therefore we did not cringe at the… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
I tied down time with a rope but it came back. Then I put my head in a death bowl and my… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
Death, I need my little addiction to you. I need that tiny voice who, even as I rise from the sea, all… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
“After Auschwitz" Anger, as black as a hook, overtakes me. Each day, each Nazi took, at 8: 00 A.M., a baby and… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
“Wanting to Die Since you ask, most days I cannot remember. I walk in my clothing, unmarked by that voyage. Then the… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
“Live or die, but don't poison everything... Well, death's been here for a long time -- it has a hell of a… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
Blind with love, my daughter has cried nightly for horses, those long-necked marchers and churners that she has mastered, any and all, reigning them… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
I am crazy as hell, but I know it. And knowing it is a kind of sanity that makes the sickness worse. — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
And what of the dead? They lie without shoes in the stone boats. They are more like stone than the sea would be if… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
The Witch's Life" When I was a child there was an old woman in our neighborhood whom we called The Witch. All day she… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
I have forgiven all the old actors for dying. A new one comes on with the same lines, like large white growths, in his… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
“From the Garden” Come, my beloved, consider the lilies. We are of little faith. We talk too much. Put your mouthful of words away… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
Oh thumb, I want a drink it is dark, where are the big people, when will I get there...? — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
I want to kiss God on His nose and watch Him sneeze and so do you. Not out of disrespect. Out of pique. Out… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
I, in my brand new body, which was not a woman's yet, told the stars my questions and thought God could really see the… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
Father, you died once, salted down at fifty-nine, packed down like a big snow angel, wasn't that enough? — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
Cinderella and the prince lived, they say, happily ever after, like two dolls in a museum case never bothered by diapers or dust, never… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
