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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.

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
Romance
Dog
Longer
Funny
Doe
Tortoises
Live
Redwoods
Men
Parrots
Love
Dogs

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Although we sometimes did without a few of life's necessities, we rarely lacked for its luxuries.
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I shall die, but that is all that I shall do for Death I am not on his pay-roll.
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I had a little sorrow, Born of a little sin.
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But she was not made for any man, and she will never be all mine.
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Evil alone has oil for every wheel.
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Progress-progress is the dirtiest word in the language-who ever told us- And made us believe it-that to take a step forward was necessarily, was always A good idea?
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Life must go on I forget just why.
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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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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.
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Euclid alone Has looked on Beauty bare. Fortunate they Who, though once only and then but far away, Have heard her massive sandal set on stone.
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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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You see, I am a poet, and not quite right in the head, darling. It’s only that.
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Love is not all it is not meat nor drink.
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Cruel of heart, lay down my song. Your reading eyes have done me wrong. Not for you was the pen bitten, And the mind wrung, and the song written.
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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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A grave is such a quiet place.
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Curse thee, Life, I will live with thee no more! Thou hast mocked me, starved me, beat my body sore! And all for a pledge that was not pledged by me, I have kissed thy crust and eaten sparingly That I might eat again, and met thy sneers With deprecations, and thy blows with tears.
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I do not think there is a woman in whom the roots of passion shoot deeper than in me.
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