I feel often very close to the ecstasy and anguish which lie at the very heart of poetry - I am writing… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
I want feelings to be expressed, to be open, to be natural, not to be looked on as strange. It's not weird… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
Once more I realize that solitude is my element, and the reason is that extreme awareness of other people (all naturally solitary… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
I feel happy to be keeping a journal again. I've missed it, missed naming things as they appear, missed the half hour… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
I find that when I have any appointment, even an afternoon one, it changes the whole quality of time. I feel overcharged.… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
And I refuse to feel guilty about not letter-writing either. There are times when one can, times when one can't. In the… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
I feel like an inadequate machine, a machine that breaks down at crucial moments, grinds to a dreadful hault, 'won't go,' or,… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
There is no doubt that solitude is a challenge and to maintain balance within it a precarious business. But I must not… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
Here life goes on, even and monotonous on the surface, full of lightning, of summits and of despair, in its depths. We… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
It is curious how any making of order makes one feel mentally ordered, ordered inside. — May Sarton Copy Share Image
I feel more alive when I'm writing than I do at any other time--except maybe when I'm making love. — May Sarton Copy Share Image
The ambience here is order and beauty. That is what frightens me when I am first alone again. I feel inadequate. I… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
The more our bodies fail us, the more naked and more demanding is the spirit, the more open and loving we can… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
O cruel cloudless space, And pale bare ground where the poor infant lies! Why do we feel restored As in a sacramental… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
...I feel more alive when I'm writing than I do at any other time--except when I'm making love. Two things when you… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
For a long time now, every meeting with another human being has been the reverberations after even the simplest conversation. But the… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
What frightens me about America today is that in the large majority there is no active sense of the value of the… — 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
