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
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
So this was fame at last! Nothing but a vast debt to be paid to the world in energy, blood, and time. — May Sarton Copy Share Image
The hardest thing we are asked to do in this world is to remain aware of suffering, suffering about which we can… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
I’m only able to write poetry, for the most part, when I have a Muse, a woman who focuses the world for… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
If art is not to be life-enhancing, what is it to be? Half the world is feminine - why is there resentment… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
I see a certain order in the universe and math is one way of making it visible. — May Sarton Copy Share Image
If art is not to be life-enhancing, what is it to be? Half the world is feminine--why is there resentment at a… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
I loved them all the way one loves at any age -- if it's real at all -- obsessively, painfully, with wild… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
Whatever peace I know rests in the natural world, in feeling myself a part of it, even in a small way. — 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
