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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
Playwright
Poet
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Writer
Rockland
Maine
Nancy Boyd
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Iron
Woods
Make
Time
Wood
Soft
More quotes by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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
Martyred many times must be Who would keep his country free.
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Blessed be Death, that cuts in marble What would have sunk to dust!
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I make bean stalks, I'm A builder, like yourself.
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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.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
All my life, Following Care along the dusty road, Have I looked back on loveliness and sighed.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
What should I be but just what I am?
Edna St. Vincent Millay
I screamed, and--lo!--Infinity Came down and settled over me
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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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Guess I'll weep awhile. Guess I won't, I mean.
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Pour away despair and rinse the cup. Eat happiness like bread.
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There is no shelter in you anywhere.
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No one but Night, with tears on her dark face, watches beside me in this windy place.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Youth, have no pity leave no farthing here For age to invest in compromise and fear.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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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To what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
A Poem from Edna St. Vincent Millay: Grown-up Was it for this I uttered prayers, And sobbed and cursed and kicked the stairs, That now, domestic as a plate, I should retire at half-past eight?
Edna St. Vincent Millay
If ever I said in grief or pride, I'd tired of honest things, I lied.
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