May Sarton
May Sarton
May Sarton is the pen name of Eleanore Marie Sarton, an American poet, novelist and memoirist...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNon-Fiction Author
Date of Birth3 May 1912
CountryUnited States of America
essence people solitude
There is no doubt that solitude is a challenge and to maintain balance within it a precarious business. But I must not forget that, for me, being with people or even with one beloved person for any length of time without solitude is even worse. I lose my center. I feel dispersed, scattered, in pieces. I must have time alone in which to mull over my encounter, and to extract its juice, its essence, to understand what has really happened to me as a consequence of it.
garden giving proportion
Gardening gives one back a sense of proportion about everything - except itself.
real believe holding-back
At some point I believe one has to stop holding back for fear of alienating some imaginary reader or real relative or friend, and come out with personal truth.
inspirational truth enough
It always comes back to the same necessity: go deep enough and there is a bedrock of truth, however hard.
real believe struggle
Love opens the doors into everything, as far as I can see, including and perhaps most of all, the door into one's own secret, and often terrible and frightening, real self.
space trying may
It is harder for women, perhaps to be 'one-pointed,' much harder for them to clear space around whatever it is they want to do beyond household chores and family life. Their lives are fragmented... the cry not so much for a 'a room of one's own' as time of one's own. Conflict become acute, whatever it may be about, when there is no margin left on any day in which to try at least to resolve it.
home house doe
A house that does not have one warm, comfy chair in it is soulless.
baby genius forget
Don't forget that compared to a grownup person every baby is a genius.
crush light perception
Here life goes on, even and monotonous on the surface, full of lightning, of summits and of despair, in its depths. We have now arrived at a stage in life so rich in new perceptions that cannot be transmitted to those at another stage - one feels at the same time full of so much gentleness and so much despair - the enigma of this life grows, grows, drowns one and crushes one, then all of a sudden in a supreme moment of light one becomes aware of the sacred.
autumn long october
I long for the bulbs to arrive, for the early autumn chores are melancholy, but the planting of bulbs is the work of hope and is always thrilling.
grace gardening instruments
Gardening is an instrument of grace.
people
Most people have to talk so they won't hear.
peace feelings world
Whatever peace I know rests in the natural world, in feeling myself a part of it, even in a small way.
pet deny ifs
When we admit our vulnerability, we include others. If we deny it, we shut them out.