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The heart grows weary after a little Of what it loved for a little while.
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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Rockland
Maine
Nancy Boyd
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Little
Heart
Constancy
Weary
Loved
Grows
Littles
More quotes by 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
If ever I said in grief or pride, I'd tired of honest things, I lied.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Lord I do fear / Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year.
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
Please give me some good advice in your next letter. I promise not to follow it.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Not for the flag Of any land because myself was born there Will I give up my life. But I will love that land where man is free, And that will I defend.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
You see, I am a poet, and not quite right in the head, darling. It’s only that.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
And all the loveliest things there be come simply, so it seems to me.
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
I am not a tentative person. Whatever I do, I give up my whole self to it.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Night falls fast. Today is in the past.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
There is no shelter in you anywhere.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
I love humanity but I hate people.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
If I love you Wednesday, What is that to you? I do not love you Thursday - so much is true.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
... but the rain Is full of ghosts tonight
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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!
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
it may be said of me by Harper & Brothers, that although I reject their proposals, I welcome their advances.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Time can make soft that iron wood.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
