Love? Be it man. Be it woman. It must be a wave you want to glide in on, give your body to it, give your laugh to it, give, when the gravelly sand takes you, your tears to the land. To love another is somethinglike prayer and can't be planned, you just fallinto its arms because your belief undoes your disbelief.
Anne SextonAbout author
- Author's profession: Poet
- Nationality: american
- Born: November 9, 1928
- Died: October 4, 1974
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The prostitutes worked for a pimp now. He was splendid and cruel. He was a god to them. He took their free will away from them, which was perfectly all right. They didn’t want it anyway. It was as though they had surrendered themselves to Jesus, for instance, so they could live unselfishly and trustingly—except that they had surrendered to a pimp instead.
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