Author: Anne Sexton

Cites

• Schopenhauer (1)
  • IN: The Complete Poems (1999) Poetry, American
    EPIGRAPH: It is the courage to make a clean breast of it in the face of every question that makes the philospher. He must be like Sophocle's Oedipus, who, seeking enlightenment concerning his terrible fate, pursues his indefatigble enquiry, even when he divines that appalling horror awaits him in the answer. But most of us carry in our heart the Jocasta who begs Oedipus for God's sake not to inquire further...
    FROM: Letter from Schopenhauer to Goethe, November 1815, (1815), Letter, Poland

Cited by

• Maggie Stiefvater (1)
  • IN: The Raven King (2016) Fiction, Young Adult Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Darling, the composer has stepped into fire.
    FROM: The Kiss, (1969), Poem, US
• Katie Crouch (1)
  • IN: Abroad (2014) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: I am unbalanced - but I am not mad with snow. I am mad the way young girls are mad, With an offering, an offering...
    FROM: The Breast, (1968), Poem, US
• Lauren Grodstein (1)
  • IN: Our Short History (2017) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Gone, I say and walk from church, refusing the stiff procession to the grave, letting the dead ride along in the hearse. It is June. I am tired of being brave.
    FROM: The Truth the Dead Know, (1962), Poem, US
• Kimberly McCreight (1)
  • IN: Where They Found Her (2015) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: One can't build little white picket fences to keep nightmares out.
    FROM: NULL, (1971), Interview, US
• Jeffrey Thomas (1)
  • IN: Deadstock (2007) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Why are all these dolls falling out of the sky? Was there a father?
    FROM: "The Falling Dolls", (1969), Poem, US
• Leslie Pietrzyk (1)
  • IN: A Year and A Day (2004) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: The supper dishes are over and the sun unaccustomed to anything else goes all the way down.
    FROM: Lament, (None), Poem, US
• Amy Parker (1)
  • IN: Beasts & Children (2016) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: My arms fit you like a sleeve, they hold catkins of your willows, the wild bee farms of your nerves, each muscle and fold of your first days.
    FROM: Unknown Girl in the Maternity Ward, (1981), Poem, US
• Brad Listi (1)
  • IN: Attention Deficit Disorder (2006) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: This is my death... and it will profit me to understand it.
    FROM: NULL, (1974), Poem, US
• Vincent Zandri (1)
  • IN: Locked Doors (None) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: For the angels who inhabit this town, although their shape constantly changes, each night we leave some cold potatoes and a bowl of milk on the windowsill. Usually they inhabit heaven where, by the way, no tears are allowed. They push the moon around like a boiled yam. The Milky Way is their hen with her many children. When it is night the cows lie down but the moon, that big bull, stands up.
    FROM: “Locked Doors”, (1975), Poem, US
• James Ellroy (1)
  • IN: Black Dahlia (1987) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Now I fold you down, my drunkard, my navigator, My first lost keeper, to love and look at later.
    FROM: All My Pretty Ones, (1962), Poem, US
• Jodi Picoult (1)
  • IN: Vanishing Acts (2005) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: But what do you keep of me? The memory of my bones flying up into your hands.
    FROM: The Surgeon, (1978), Poem, US
• Helen Vitoria (1)
  • IN: Corn Exchange (2013) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: our hands are light blue and gentle our eyes are full of terrible confessions
    FROM: The Black Art, (1962), Poem, US