I long for the bulbs to arrive, for the early autumn chores are melancholy, but the planting of bulbs is the work… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
I believe that children long for form just as grownups do, and that it releases rather than cramps creative energy. — May Sarton Copy Share Image
I am furious at all the letters to answer, when all I want to do is think and write poems. ... I… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
I think of the trees and how simply they let go, let fall the riches of a season, how without grief (it… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
Does anything in nature despair except man? An animal with a foot caught in a trap does not seem to despair. It… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
Keep busy with survival. Imitate the trees. Learn to lose in order to recover, and remember nothing stays the same for long,… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
You will always be here with me; As long as I live, A towering figure of love. — May Sarton Copy Share Image
we are never done with thinking about our parents, I suppose, and come to know them better long after they are dead… — 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
“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
