Words are my passion / And out of them and me / I would create beauty. — May Sarton Beauty Copy Share Image
Go rich in poverty. Go rich in poetry. This nothingness is plentitude. — May Sarton Money Copy Share Image
The minute one utters a certainty, the opposite comes to mind. — May Sarton Certainty Copy Share Image
I love giving flowers. It is so deliciously unlasting and romantic. — May Sarton Flower Copy Share Image
We are all jellyfish, too pitiful and too afraid of being disliked to be honest. — May Sarton Being honest Copy Share Image
For me the moral dilemma this past year has been how to make peace with the unacceptable. — May Sarton Character Copy Share Image
At some point I believe one has to stop holding back for fear of alienating some imaginary reader or real relative or… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
Where music thundered let the mind be still, Where the will triumphed let there be no will, What light revealed, now let… — May Sarton Dark Copy Share Image
Does one come to enjoy even the hardships that help make one the person one is? Or is it that the past… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
I can tell you that solitude Is not all exaltation, inner space Where the soul breathes and work can be done. Solitude… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
It always comes back to the same necessity: go deep enough and there is a bedrock of truth, however hard. — May Sarton Copy Share Image
And I refuse to feel guilty about not letter-writing either. There are times when one can, times when one can't. In the… — 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
I suppose I have written novels to find out what I thought about something and poems to find out what I felt… — May Sarton Books Copy Share Image
I sometimes think men don't 'hear' very well, if I take your meaning to be 'understand what is going on in a… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
I am realizing once and for all the difference as far as I am concerned of women and men and the necessity… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
Am I too old, perhaps, ever to take in another's life to share with mine on a permanent basis? If so, I… — May Sarton Ardent Copy Share Image
In the garden the door is always open into the "holy" - growth, birth, death. Every flower holds the whole mystery in… — May Sarton Birth Copy Share Image
It is harder for women, perhaps to be 'one-pointed,' much harder for them to clear space around whatever it is they want… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
One thing is certain, and I have always known it - the joys of my life have nothing to do with age.… — May Sarton Age Copy Share Image
“Laura felt now completely detached from her body. It was, she considered, simply a piece of machinery that was running down. But… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
One has only to set a loved human being against the fact that we are all in peril all the time to… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
When we speak of being vulnerable, it suggests being especially vulnerable to pain. People for whom personal dignity and self-sufficiency are everything,… — May Sarton Awareness 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 Art Copy Share Image
“Now I become myself. It's taken Time, may years and places; I have been dissolved and shaken, Worn other people's faces, Run… — May Sarton Love Copy Share Image
I live alone, perhaps for no good reason, for the reason that I am an impossible creature, set apart by a temperament… — May Sarton Alive Copy Share Image
What frightens me about America today is that in the large majority there is no active sense of the value of the… — May Sarton Copy Share Image
“Old age is really a disguise that no one but the old themselves see through. I feel exactly as I always did,… — May Sarton Old age Copy Share Image
“I loved them in the way one loves at any age — if it’s real at all — obsessively, painfully, with wild… — May Sarton Love Copy Share Image
“Laura opened her eyes, feeling like a stranger in her own garden. But if she was a stranger here, where was home?… — May Sarton Loss of identity Copy Share Image
