“Sexton adored being adored, but the trip left a slightly sour taste in her mouth, which ardent testimonials did not dissolve. She had been in pain; she had been more put out by bad press than she liked to show; she felt ‘humbled’ by the atmosphere of seriousness in which many of the festival poets worked; and she had been drunk a little too often. Her dejection spilled over into a letter she wrote to a young admirer shortly after returning, scolding her for being so needy of praise. ‘[I am] full of self-doubts at this time, having returned from England & hearing more poets who write far better than I. I do not write to them and ask them to tell me that someday I will be good. It is something that you do alone –– all the way alone.”
~ Diane Middlebrook, Anne Sexton: A Biography
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