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If I could have two things in one: the peace of the grave, and the light of the sun.

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
Peace
Two
Light
Things
Grave
Graves
Sun

More quotes by Edna St. Vincent Millay

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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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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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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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I screamed, and--lo!--Infinity Came down and settled over me
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Pour away despair and rinse the cup. Eat happiness like bread.
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Lord I do fear / Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year.
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Strange how few, After alls said and done, the things that are Of moment.
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If I love you Wednesday, What is that to you? I do not love you Thursday - so much is true.
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Progress-progress is the dirtiest word in the language-who ever told us- And made us believe it-that to take a step forward was necessarily, was always A good idea?
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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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Night falls fast. Today is in the past.
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To what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough.
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Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree, Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one, Yet knows its boughs more silent than before
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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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Cruel of heart, lay down my song. Your reading eyes have done me wrong. Not for you was the pen bitten, And the mind wrung, and the song written.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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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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A ghost in marble of a girl you knew Who would have loved you in a day or two.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Curse thee, Life, I will live with thee no more! Thou hast mocked me, starved me, beat my body sore! And all for a pledge that was not pledged by me, I have kissed thy crust and eaten sparingly That I might eat again, and met thy sneers With deprecations, and thy blows with tears.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Childhood Is the Kingdom Where Nobody Dies.
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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.
Edna St. Vincent Millay