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They say when you are missing someone that they are probably feeling the same, but I don't think it's possible for you to miss me as much as I'm missing you right now
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Edna St. Vincent Millay
Age: 58 †
Born: 1892
Born: February 22
Died: 1950
Died: October 19
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Rockland
Maine
Nancy Boyd
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Someone
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Right
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Love
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More quotes by Edna St. Vincent Millay
And all the loveliest things there be come simply, so it seems to me.
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No one but Night, with tears on her dark face, watches beside me in this windy place.
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You are loved. If so, what else matters?
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Beauty never slumbers All is in her name But the rose remembers The dust from which it came.
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Stranger, pause and look From the dust of ages Lift this little book, Turn the tattered pages, Read me, do not let me die! Search the fading letters finding Steadfast in the broken binding All that once was I!
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One things there's no getting by, I've been a wicked girl, Says I... But, if I can't be sorry I might as well be glad !
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Lord I do fear / Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year.
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Strange how few, After alls said and done, the things that are Of moment.
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A grave is such a quiet place.
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I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.
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I know, but I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
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Love is not all it is not meat nor drink.
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That which has quelled me, lives with me, Accomplice in catastrophe.
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Parrots, tortoises and redwoods live a longer life than men do Men a longer life than dogs do Dogs a longer life than love does.
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A Poem from Edna St. Vincent Millay: Grown-up Was it for this I uttered prayers, And sobbed and cursed and kicked the stairs, That now, domestic as a plate, I should retire at half-past eight?
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What should I be but just what I am?
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Upon this gifted age, in its dark hour falls from the sky a meteoric shower of facts They lie unquestioned, uncombined. Wisdom enough to leech us of our ill is daily spun, But there exists no loom to weave it into fabric.
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Please give me some good advice in your next letter. I promise not to follow it.
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This have I known always: Love is no more than the wide blossom which the wind assails, than the great tide that treads the shifting shore, strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales Pity me that the heart is slow to learn, that the swift mind beholds at every turn.
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Evil alone has oil for every wheel.
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