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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
Translator
Writer
Rockland
Maine
Nancy Boyd
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Time
Wood
Soft
Iron
Woods
Make

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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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Dust in an urn long since, dispersed and dead Is great Apollo and the happier he
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Let us not forget such words, and all they mean, as hatred, bitterness, and rancor greed, intolerance, bigotry let us renew our faith and pledge to man, his right to be himself and free.
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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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She learned her hands in a fairy-tale, And her mouth on a valentine.
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What terrible fear causes Man to address the Void as Thou?
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Beauty is whatever gives joy.
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Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand. Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!
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A person who publishes a book willfully appears before the populace with his pants down. If it is a good book nothing can hurt him. If it is a bad book nothing can help him.
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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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When you publish something, it is very much as if you pulled your pants down in public. If what you have written is good, nobody can hurt you if what you have written is bad, nobody can help you.
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Guess I'll weep awhile. Guess I won't, I mean.
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Music my rampart, and my only one.
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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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O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!
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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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Youth, have no pity leave no farthing here For age to invest in compromise and fear.
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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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