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Need we say it was not love, Now that love is perished?

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
Love
Perished
Need
Needs

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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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Not Truth, but Faith it is that keeps the world alive.
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Dust in an urn long since, dispersed and dead Is great Apollo and the happier he
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And all the loveliest things there be come simply, so it seems to me.
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O troubled forms, O early love unfortunate and hard, Time has estranged you into a jewel cold and pure
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To what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough.
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Cut if you will with sleep's dull knife, the years from off your life, my friend! the years that death takes off my life, he'll take from off the other end!
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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 !
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That which has quelled me, lives with me, Accomplice in catastrophe.
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A person who publishes a book appears willfully in public eye with his pants down.
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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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I do not think there is a woman in whom the roots of passion shoot deeper than in me.
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Evil alone has oil for every wheel.
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If I could have two things in one: the peace of the grave, and the light of the sun.
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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
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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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Youth, have no pity leave no farthing here For age to invest in compromise and fear.
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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.
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It's not true that life is one damn thing after another it is one damn thing over and over.
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Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink And rise and sink and rise and sink again Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath, Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone Yet many a man is making friends with death Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
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