All Anne Sexton Quotes
- being sixteen in the pants I died full of questions Died
- Suicide is, after all, the opposite of the poem. All
- There once was a miller with a daughter as lovely as a grape. He told the king that she could spin gold out of common… Brooklyn
- Suicides have a special language. Like carpenters they want to know which tools. They never ask why build. Ask
- Yesterday I did not want to be borrowed but this is the typewriter that sits before me and love is where yesterday is at. Borrowed
- But suicides have a special language. Like carpenters they want to know which tools. They never ask why build. Twice I have so simply declared… Ask
- Fee-fi-fo-fum - Now I'm borrowed. Now I'm numb. Borrowed
- God went out of me as if the sea dried up like sandpaper, as if the sun became a latrine. God went out of my… Became
- Perhaps I am no one. True, I have a body and I cannot escape from it. I would like to fly out of my head,… Body
- Death, I need my little addiction to you. I need that tiny voice who, even as I rise from the sea, all woman, all there,… Addiction
- Not that it was beautiful, but that I found some order there. Beautiful
- I am your dwarf. I am the enemy within. I am the boss of your dreams. See. Your hand shakes. It is not palsy or… Beware
- And if I tried to give you something else, something outside myself, you would not know that the worst of anyone can be, finally, an… Accident
- 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 think they know… All
- I suffer for birds and fireflies but not frogs, she said, and threw him across the room. Kaboom! Like a genie out of a samovar,… Across
- And we are magic talking to itself, noisy and alone. I am queen of all my sins forgotten. Am I still lost? Once I was… All
- Not that it was beautiful, but that, in the end, there was a certain sense of order there; something worth learning in that narrow diary… Beautiful
- Those moments before a poem comes, when the heightened awareness comes over you, and you realize a poem is buried there somewhere, you prepare yourself.… Awareness
- The little girl skipped by under the wrinkled oak leaves and held fast to a replica of herself. Fast
- Look to your heart that flutters in and out like a moth. God is not indifferent to your need. You have a thousand prayers but… Flutters
- The future is a fog that is still hanging out over the sea, a boat that floats home or does not. Boat
- She suffers according to the digits of my hate. I hear the filaments of alabaster. I would lie down with them and lift my madness… According
- I lay there silently, hoarding my small dignity. I did not ask about the gate or the closet. I did not question the bedtime ritual… Ask
- Sometimes the soul takes pictures of things it has wished for, but never seen. Inspirational
- We talked death with burned-up intensity, both of us drawn to it like moths to an electric light bulb. Sucking on it! Both