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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 !
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
Says
Getting
Girl
Wells
Might
Well
Wicked
Things
Glad
Sorry
More quotes by 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
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
No one but Night, with tears on her dark face, watches beside me in this windy place.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Oh, children, growing up to be Adventurers into sophistry, Forbear, forbear to be of those That read the rood to learn the rose.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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
Life must go on I forget just why.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
A ghost in marble of a girl you knew Who would have loved you in a day or two.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
pity me that the heart is slow to learn what the swift mind beholds at every turn.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
A grave is such a quiet place.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
If I could have two things in one: the peace of the grave, and the light of the sun.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Heap not on this mound roses that she loved so well why bewilder her with roses that she cannot see or smell.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
A person who publishes a book willfully appears before the populace with his pants down. If it is a good book nothing can hurt him. If it is a bad book nothing can help him.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
But she was not made for any man, and she will never be all mine.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Euclid alone has looked on Beauty bare. Let all who prate of Beauty hold their peace, And lay them prone upon the earth and cease To ponder on themselves, the while they stare At nothing, intricately drawn nowhere.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
It's little I know what's in my heart,What's in my mind it's little I know,But there's that in me must up and start,And it's little I care where my feet go.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
We were so wholly one I had not thought That we could die apart. I had not thought That I could move,—and you be stiff and still! That I could speak,—and you perforce be dumb! I think our heart-strings were, like warp and woof In some firm fabric, woven in and out Your golden filaments in fair design Across my duller fibre.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Evil alone has oil for every wheel.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
She learned her hands in a fairy-tale, And her mouth on a valentine.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Need we say it was not love, Now that love is perished?
Edna St. Vincent Millay
