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Life must go on I forget just why.

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
Life
Grief
Forget
Must

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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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Cut if you will with sleep's dull knife, the years from off your life, my friend! the years that death takes off my life, he'll take from off the other end!
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There is no shelter in you anywhere.
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And all the loveliest things there be come simply, so it seems to me.
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Please don't think me negligent or rude. I am both, in effect, of course, but please don't think me either.
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Youth, have no pity leave no farthing here For age to invest in compromise and fear.
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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.
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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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What the customer demands is last year's model, cheaper. To find out what the customer needs you have to understand what the customer is doing as well as he understands it. Then you build what he needs and you educate him to the fact that he needs it.
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I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.
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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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Life has no friend.
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I have loved badly, loved the great Too soon, withdrawn my words too late And eaten in an echoing hall Alone and from a chipped plate The words that I withdrew too late.
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Blessed be Death, that cuts in marble What would have sunk to dust!
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After the feet of beauty fly my own.
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I am not a tentative person. Whatever I do, I give up my whole self to it.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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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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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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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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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