What did Anne Sexton mean by: There is hope. There is hope everywhere. Today God give milk and I have the pail. - Anne Sexton Poet · USA Copy
+ To die whole, riddled with nothing but desire for it, is like breakfast after love. Feraz Zeid, January 9, 2024January 9, 2024, Anne Sexton, Breakfast, Desire, Satisfaction, 0 - Anne Sexton Poet · USA
+ As a writer one has to take the chance on being a fool. Feraz Zeid, June 15, 2023December 12, 2023, Anne Sexton, Chance, Fool, 0 - Anne Sexton Poet · USA
+ You who have inhabited me in the deepest and most broken place, are going, going Feraz Zeid, January 9, 2024January 9, 2024, Anne Sexton, Broken, 0 - Anne Sexton Poet · USA
+ Be careful of words, / … they can be both daisies and bruises. Feraz Zeid, January 9, 2024January 9, 2024, Anne Sexton, Bruises, Language, 0 - Anne Sexton Poet · USA
+ As it has been said: Love and a cough cannot be concealed. Even a small cough. Even a small love. Feraz Zeid, January 9, 2024January 9, 2024, Anne Sexton, Concealed, 0 - Anne Sexton Poet · USA
+ To be without God is to be a snake / who wants to swallow an elephant. Feraz Zeid, January 9, 2024January 9, 2024, Anne Sexton, Elephants, God, Snakes, 0 - Anne Sexton Poet · USA
+ Sometimes the soul takes pictures of things it has wished for, but never seen. Feraz Zeid, January 9, 2024January 9, 2024, Anne Sexton, Soul, 0 - Anne Sexton Poet · USA
+ The tongue, the Chinese say, is like a sharp knife: it kills without drawing blood. Feraz Zeid, January 9, 2024January 9, 2024, Anne Sexton, Blood, Drawing, Knives, 0 - Anne Sexton Poet · USA
Because beautiful things never last. Not roses nor snow… And not fireworks, either - Jennifer Donnelly Author
It is only hope which is real, and reality is a bitterness and a deceit. - William Makepeace Thackeray Author · India
We promise according to our hopes and perform according to our fears. Explain - François de La Rochefoucauld Writer · France
Hope, deceiving as it is, serves at least to lead us to the end of our lives by an agreeable route. Explain - François de La Rochefoucauld Writer · France
But where are the snows of last year? That was the greatest concern of Villon, the Parisian poet. - François Rabelais Author · France
