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Time can make soft that iron wood.
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
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Rockland
Maine
Nancy Boyd
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Woods
Make
Time
Wood
Soft
Iron
More quotes by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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
O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!
Edna St. Vincent Millay
There is no shelter in you anywhere.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.
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.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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
I shall die, but that is all that I shall do for Death I am not on his pay-roll.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
One things there's no getting by, I've been a wicked girl, Says I... But, if I can't be sorry I might as well be glad !
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Upon this gifted age, in its dark hour falls from the sky a meteoric shower of facts They lie unquestioned, uncombined. Wisdom enough to leech us of our ill is daily spun, But there exists no loom to weave it into fabric.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
When I can make Of ten small words a rope to hang the world! I had you and I have you now no more.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Love is not all it is not meat nor drink.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Heap not on this mound roses that she loved so well why bewilder her with roses that she cannot see or smell.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
If ever I said in grief or pride, I'd tired of honest things, I lied.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Music my rampart, and my only one.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Pour away despair and rinse the cup. Eat happiness like bread.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Her lawn looks like a meadow, And if she mows the place She leaves the clover standing And the Queen Anne's Lace.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
We think-although of course, now, we very seldom Clearly think- That the other side of War is Peace.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree, Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one, Yet knows its boughs more silent than before
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Not poppy, nor mandrake, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep, Which thou owest yesterday.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
