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Although we sometimes did without a few of life's necessities, we rarely lacked for its luxuries.

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
Without
Sometimes
Life
Luxuries
Lacked
Necessities
Rarely
Luxury
Although

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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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Beauty never slumbers All is in her name But the rose remembers The dust from which it came.
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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.
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Strange how few, After alls said and done, the things that are Of moment.
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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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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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Need we say it was not love, Now that love is perished?
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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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A Poem from Edna St. Vincent Millay: Grown-up Was it for this I uttered prayers, And sobbed and cursed and kicked the stairs, That now, domestic as a plate, I should retire at half-past eight?
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My candle burns at both ends it will not last the night but ah, my foes, and oh, my friends - it gives a lovely light!
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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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Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave. I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
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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 love humanity but I hate people.
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it may be said of me by Harper & Brothers, that although I reject their proposals, I welcome their advances.
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When you are corn and roses and at rest I shall endure, a dense and sanguine ghost To haunt the scene where I was happiest To bend above the thing I loved the most
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What terrible fear causes Man to address the Void as Thou?
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Dust in an urn long since, dispersed and dead Is great Apollo and the happier he
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I will come back to you, I swear I will And you will know me still. I shall be only a little taller Than when I went.
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Childhood Is the Kingdom Where Nobody Dies.
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