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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.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Edna St. Vincent Millay
Age: 58 †
Born: 1892
Born: February 22
Died: 1950
Died: October 19
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Rockland
Maine
Nancy Boyd
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Must
Heart
Mind
Feet
Start
Care
Littles
Little
More quotes by Edna St. Vincent Millay
And all the loveliest things there be come simply, so it seems to me.
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Beauty never slumbers All is in her name But the rose remembers The dust from which it came.
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Heap not on this mound roses that she loved so well why bewilder her with roses that she cannot see or smell.
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Guess I'll weep awhile. Guess I won't, I mean.
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The heart grows weary after a little Of what it loved for a little while.
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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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After the feet of beauty fly my own.
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I love humanity but I hate people.
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I screamed, and--lo!--Infinity Came down and settled over me
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I had a little sorrow, Born of a little sin.
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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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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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Love is not all it is not meat nor drink.
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I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.
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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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Night falls fast. Today is in the past.
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Youth, have no pity leave no farthing here For age to invest in compromise and fear.
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... but the rain Is full of ghosts tonight
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Should at that moment the full moon Step forth upon the hill, And memories hard to bear at noon, By moonlight harder still, Form in the shadows of the trees, - Things that you could not spare And live, or so you thought, yet these All gone, and you still there, A man no longer what he was, Not yet the thing he planned.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
A person who publishes a book appears willfully in public eye with his pants down.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
