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

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Youth, have no pity leave no farthing here For age to invest in compromise and fear.
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When I can make Of ten small words a rope to hang the world! I had you and I have you now no more.
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This have I known always: Love is no more than the wide blossom which the wind assails, than the great tide that treads the shifting shore, strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales Pity me that the heart is slow to learn, that the swift mind beholds at every turn.
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That is my being, the madness of an unaccustomed mood.
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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.
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She learned her hands in a fairy-tale, And her mouth on a valentine.
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Beauty in all things-no, we cannot hope for that but some place set apart for it.
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I will come back to you, I swear I will And you will know me still. I shall be only a little taller Than when I went.
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I love humanity but I hate people.
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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.
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Need we say it was not love, Now that love is perished?
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That which has quelled me, lives with me, Accomplice in catastrophe.
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Stranger, pause and look From the dust of ages Lift this little book, Turn the tattered pages, Read me, do not let me die! Search the fading letters finding Steadfast in the broken binding All that once was I!
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Time can make soft that iron wood.
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Life has no friend.
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Beauty is whatever gives joy.
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To what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough.
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Beautiful as a dandelion-blossom, golden in the green grass, This life can be. Common as a dandelion-blossom, beautiful in the clean grass, not beautiful Because common, beautiful because beautiful, Noble because common, because free.
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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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Not poppy, nor mandrake, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep, Which thou owest yesterday.
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