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I am not afraid of lawyers as I used to be. They are lambs in wolves' clothing.

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
Lawyers
Clothings
Clothing
Lawyer
Afraid
Law
Used
Wolves
Lambs

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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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Blessed be Death, that cuts in marble What would have sunk to dust!
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She learned her hands in a fairy-tale, And her mouth on a valentine.
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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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The heart grows weary after a little Of what it loved for a little while.
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Evil alone has oil for every wheel.
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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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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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All my life, Following Care along the dusty road, Have I looked back on loveliness and sighed.
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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.
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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.
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And all the loveliest things there be come simply, so it seems to me.
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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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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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Oh, children, growing up to be Adventurers into sophistry, Forbear, forbear to be of those That read the rood to learn the rose.
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A grave is such a quiet place.
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But she was not made for any man, and she will never be all mine.
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Pour away despair and rinse the cup. Eat happiness like bread.
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That which has quelled me, lives with me, Accomplice in catastrophe.
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