[In old age] there is a childlike innocence, often, that has nothing to do with the childishness of senility. The moments become… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
I've been thinking about happiness-how wrong it is ever to expect it to last or there to be a time of happiness.… — 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
When one's not writing poems - and I'm not at the moment - you wonder how you ever did it. It's like… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
When I am alone the flowers are really seen; I can pay attention to them. They are felt as presences. Without them… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
Gardening is one of the rewards of middle age, when one is ready for an impersonal passion, a passion that demands patience,… — 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
There were moments ... when it seemed that all one could be asked was just to keep the ashtrays clean, the bed… — 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
“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