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Oh, friend, forget not, when you fain would note In me a beauty that was never mine, How first you knew me in a book I wrote, How first you loved me for a written line.
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
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Rockland
Maine
Nancy Boyd
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Forget
Mine
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Line
Book
Friend
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Fain
Never
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More quotes by Edna St. Vincent Millay
I make bean stalks, I'm A builder, like yourself.
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When I can make Of ten small words a rope to hang the world! I had you and I have you now no more.
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Not poppy, nor mandrake, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep, Which thou owest yesterday.
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Life has no friend.
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To what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough.
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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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I will come back to you, I swear I will And you will know me still. I shall be only a little taller Than when I went.
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When you are corn and roses and at rest I shall endure, a dense and sanguine ghost To haunt the scene where I was happiest To bend above the thing I loved the most
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Lord I do fear / Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year.
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I shall die, but that is all that I shall do for Death I am not on his pay-roll.
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Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave. I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
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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
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If ever I said in grief or pride, I'd tired of honest things, I lied.
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There is no shelter in you anywhere.
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Beauty in all things-no, we cannot hope for that but some place set apart for it.
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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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Curse thee, Life, I will live with thee no more! Thou hast mocked me, starved me, beat my body sore! And all for a pledge that was not pledged by me, I have kissed thy crust and eaten sparingly That I might eat again, and met thy sneers With deprecations, and thy blows with tears.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Blessed be Death, that cuts in marble What would have sunk to dust!
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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.
Edna St. Vincent Millay