May Sarton Quotes
Most popular May Sarton Quotes
We only keep what we lose.
Excellence costs a great deal.
In the country of pain we are each alone.
A good marriage shuts out a very great deal.
It takes a long time for words to become thought.
Unless the gentle inherit the earth, There will be no earth.
Though friendship is not quick to burn, It is explosive stuff.
The minute one utters a certainty, the opposite comes to mind.
Loneliness is the poverty of self; solitude is richness of self.
I suppose real old age begins when one looks backward rather than forward.
Flowers and plants are silence presences; they nourish every sense except the ear.
A garden is always a series of losses set against a few triumphs, like life itself.
We have to dare to be ourselves, however frightening or strange that self may prove to be.
Solitude is the salt of personhood. It brings out the authentic flavor of every experience.
For inside all the weakness of old age, the spirit, God knows, is as mercurial as it ever was.
I have never written a book that was not born out of a question I needed to answer for myself.
A holiday gives one a chance to look backward and forward, to reset oneself by an inner compass.
Old age is not an illness, it is a timeless ascent. As power diminishes, we grow toward the light.
Sex itself must always, it seems to me, come to us as a sacrament and be so used or it is meaningless.
So this was fame at last! Nothing but a vast debt to be paid to the world in energy, in blood, in time.
There are some griefs so loud They could bring down the sky, And there are griefs so still None knows how deep they lie.
Family life! The United Nations is child's play compared to the tugs and splits and need to understand and forgive in any family.
Words are more powerful than perhaps anyone suspects, and, once deeply engraved in a child's mind, they are not easily eradicated.
Every flower holds the whole mystery in its short cycle, and in the garden we are never far away from death, the fertilizing, good, creative death.
Each day, and the living of it, has to be a conscious creation in which discipline and order are relieved with some play and some pure foolishness.
It was completely fruitless to quarrel with the world, whereas the quarrel with oneself was occasionally fruitful, and always, she had to admit, interesting.
Human relations just are not fixed in their orbits like the planets—they're more like galaxies, changing all the time, exploding into light for years, then dying away.
Human relations just are not fixed in their orbits like the planets — they're more like galaxies, changing all the time, exploding into light for years, then dying away.
For me a true poem is on the way when I begin to be haunted, when it seems as if I were being asked an inescapable question by an angel with whom I must wrestle to get at the answer.