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I do not think there is a woman in whom the roots of passion shoot deeper than in me.
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
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Writer
Rockland
Maine
Nancy Boyd
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Passion
Woman
Think
Thinking
Shoot
Deeper
Roots
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.
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That which has quelled me, lives with me, Accomplice in catastrophe.
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Oh, children, growing up to be Adventurers into sophistry, Forbear, forbear to be of those That read the rood to learn the rose.
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A person who publishes a book appears willfully in public eye with his pants down.
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You see, I am a poet, and not quite right in the head, darling. It’s only that.
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I am not at all in favor of hard work for its own sake many people who work very hard indeed produce terrible things, and should most certainly not be encouraged.
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Please give me some good advice in your next letter. I promise not to follow it.
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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.
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Not Truth, but Faith it is that keeps the world alive.
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I am not afraid of lawyers as I used to be. They are lambs in wolves' clothing.
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Dust in an urn long since, dispersed and dead Is great Apollo and the happier he
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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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Guess I'll weep awhile. Guess I won't, I mean.
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I love humanity but I hate people.
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Music my rampart, and my only one.
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When you publish something, it is very much as if you pulled your pants down in public. If what you have written is good, nobody can hurt you if what you have written is bad, nobody can help you.
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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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Life must go on I forget just why.
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Sorrow like a ceaseless rain Beats upon my heart. People twist and scream in pain-- Dawn will find them still again This has neither wax nor wane, Neither stop nor start.
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O troubled forms, O early love unfortunate and hard, Time has estranged you into a jewel cold and pure
Edna St. Vincent Millay
