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If ever I said in grief or pride, I'd tired of honest things, I lied.
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
Truth
Ever
Lied
Things
Honesty
Grief
Tired
Pride
Honest
More quotes by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Time can make soft that iron wood.
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I make bean stalks, I'm A builder, like yourself.
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Youth, have no pity leave no farthing here For age to invest in compromise and fear.
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To what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough.
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All my life, Following Care along the dusty road, Have I looked back on loveliness and sighed.
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Music my rampart, and my only one.
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Need we say it was not love, Now that love is perished?
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Parrots, tortoises and redwoods live a longer life than men do Men a longer life than dogs do Dogs a longer life than love does.
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And all the loveliest things there be come simply, so it seems to me.
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I love humanity but I hate people.
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Beauty never slumbers All is in her name But the rose remembers The dust from which it came.
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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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I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.
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Heap not on this mound roses that she loved so well why bewilder her with roses that she cannot see or smell.
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You are loved. If so, what else matters?
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If I love you Wednesday, What is that to you? I do not love you Thursday - so much is true.
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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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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
That is my being, the madness of an unaccustomed mood.
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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.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
