Anthony Hecht Quotes

I've been looking for a savior in these dirty streets, looking for a savior beneath these dirty sheets.

He longed to be lost but he couldn't bear not to be found.

I wasn't unhappy, but I was a little like: 'Is this it? Really?' I was thirsty.

My entire soul is a cry, and all my work is a commentary on that cry.

Are we not all desperate one way or another?

It's always really funny to watch someone who really wants something who isn't getting it but who's desperate for it.

I have been restless for as long as I can remember.

Most of the characters I'm drawn to, as an actor, are ones that are quite intensely lonely and a bit lost and are looking for some kind of redemptive answer.

So much of my intention with songs is to voice a continual dissatisfaction, or at least to claw my way out of it.

I think most people can relate to the feeling of love spilling over into obsession.

I can imagine they're asking for someone, and someone is asking for me. Everyone knows I keep asking for Wonderboy, and I will - I'll keep knocking on the door.

What a weary time those years were -- to have the desire and the need to live but not the ability.

but he only found her in the image that saturated his private and terrible solitude.

... and my love stays bitterly glowing, spasms of it will not sleep, and I am helpless and thirsty and need shade but there is no one to cover me- not even God.

Today I will go to wait for her again, because I cannot help it, because my whole being seems now to be bound up in the being of one so different from myself and yet so exquisitely familiar that I can scarely understand what has happened.

Sometimes I feel like I've got my nose pressed up against the window of a bakery, only I'm the bread.

Because I can't hit bottom, I can't be saved.

His heart hurt with the wanting of it, the hurt no less painful for being difficult to explain.

The desperation meeting the silence with its unmasked wish.

She perched on her windowsill, gazing at the lurid sun soaking into the Caldera, trying to appreciate it even though she couldn’t have it. Why did she always feel she had to do something in the face of beauty?

I am a lover and have not found my thing to love. That is a big point if you know enough to realize what I mean. It makes my destruction inevitable, you see. There are few who understand that.

I am inhabited by a cry. Nightly it flaps out Looking, with its hooks, for something to love.

Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth.

...and the most intense desire gave force to her passionate words as the girl glanced despairingly about the dreary room like a caged creature on the point of breaking loose.