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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
Librettist
Playwright
Poet
Translator
Writer
Rockland
Maine
Nancy Boyd
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Thinking
Feeling
Possible
Feelings
Sad
Someone
Longing
Right
Sadness
Much
Miss
Love
Missing
Think
Probably

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The heart grows weary after a little Of what it loved for a little while.
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Strange how few, After alls said and done, the things that are Of moment.
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If I love you Wednesday, What is that to you? I do not love you Thursday - so much is true.
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... but the rain Is full of ghosts tonight
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Love is not all it is not meat nor drink.
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Let us not forget such words, and all they mean, as hatred, bitterness, and rancor greed, intolerance, bigotry let us renew our faith and pledge to man, his right to be himself and free.
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This book, when I am dead, will be A little faint perfume of me. People who knew me well will say, She really used to think that way.
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O troubled forms, O early love unfortunate and hard, Time has estranged you into a jewel cold and pure
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Should at that moment the full moon Step forth upon the hill, And memories hard to bear at noon, By moonlight harder still, Form in the shadows of the trees, - Things that you could not spare And live, or so you thought, yet these All gone, and you still there, A man no longer what he was, Not yet the thing he planned.
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Youth, have no pity leave no farthing here For age to invest in compromise and fear.
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But far, oh, far as passionate eye can reach, And long, ah, long as rapturous eye can cling, The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake, Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road A gateless garden, and an open path: My feet to follow, and my heart to hold.
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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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My candle burns at both ends it will not last the night but ah, my foes, and oh, my friends - it gives a lovely light!
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O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!
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No one but Night, with tears on her dark face, watches beside me in this windy place.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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A person who publishes a book appears willfully in public eye with his pants down.
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The younger generation forms a country of its own. It has no geographical boundaries. I've talked with young Hungarians in Budapest, with young Italians in Rome, with young Frenchmen in Paris, and with young people all over. ... These young people are going to do things. They are going to change things.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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I know, but I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
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If ever I said in grief or pride, I'd tired of honest things, I lied.
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We think-although of course, now, we very seldom Clearly think- That the other side of War is Peace.
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