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
“How does one grow up?” I asked a friend the other day. There was a slight pause; then she answered, “By thinking.” — May Sarton Copy Share Image
I sometimes imagine that as one grows older one comes to live a role which as a young person one merely 'played. — May Sarton Copy Share Image
The beginner hugs his infant poem to him and does not want it to grow up. But you may have to break… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
It is, I assume, quite easy to wither into old age, and hard to grow into it. — May Sarton Copy Share Image
For of course one is never safe when in love. Growth is demanding and may seem dangerous, for there is loss as… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
Old age is not an illness, it is a timeless ascent. As power diminishes, we grow toward the light. — May Sarton Copy Share Image
In the middle of the night, things well up from the past that are not always cause for rejoicing--the unsolved, the painful… — 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
