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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.

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
Really
Dead
Way
Knew
Think
Used
Thinking
Littles
People
Little
Wells
Book
Faint
Well
Perfume

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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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Life must go on I forget just why.
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I am not a tentative person. Whatever I do, I give up my whole self to it.
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That which has quelled me, lives with me, Accomplice in catastrophe.
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You are loved. If so, what else matters?
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I am all the time talking about you, and bragging, to one person or another. I am like the Ancient Mariner, who had a tale in his heart he must unfold to all. I am always buttonholing somebody and saying, Someday you must meet my mother.
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it may be said of me by Harper & Brothers, that although I reject their proposals, I welcome their advances.
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A ghost in marble of a girl you knew Who would have loved you in a day or two.
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If I could have two things in one: the peace of the grave, and the light of the sun.
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O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!
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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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Time can make soft that iron wood.
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Beautiful as a dandelion-blossom, golden in the green grass, This life can be. Common as a dandelion-blossom, beautiful in the clean grass, not beautiful Because common, beautiful because beautiful, Noble because common, because free.
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