I think I've been writing black poems all along, wearing my white mask. I'm always the victim ... but no longer! — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
There is no word for time. Today we will not think to number another summer or watch its white bird into the… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
Dead drunk is the term I think of, insensible, neither cool nor warm, without a head or a foot. To be drunk… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
I would like to think that no one would die anymore if we all believed in daisies but the worms know better,… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
The summer has seized you, as when, last month in Amalfi, I saw lemons as large as your desk-side globe-that miniature map… — 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… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
I think it will be a miracle if I don't someday end up killing myself. — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
Depression is boring, I think and I would do better to make some soup and light up the cave. — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
I think of myself as writing for one person, that one perfect reader who understands and loves. — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
think of innocent Icarus who is doing quite well: larger than a sail, over the fog and the blast of the plushy… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
Writers are such phonies: they sometimes have wise insights but they don't live by them at all. That's what writers are like...you… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
I tell it stories now and then and feed it images like honey. I will not speculate today with poems that think… — Anne Sexton Copy Share Image
In a letter (no matter how quickly it is written or honestly or freely or lovingly) it is more possible to be… — 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
