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That is my being, the madness of an unaccustomed mood.
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
Madness
Mood
Unaccustomed
More quotes by Edna St. Vincent Millay
To what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Night falls fast. Today is in the past.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Beauty is whatever gives joy.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Please give me some good advice in your next letter. I promise not to follow it.
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This have I known always: Love is no more than the wide blossom which the wind assails, than the great tide that treads the shifting shore, strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales Pity me that the heart is slow to learn, that the swift mind beholds at every turn.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Need we say it was not love, Now that love is perished?
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Youth, have no pity leave no farthing here For age to invest in compromise and fear.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Love is not all it is not meat nor drink.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Life has no friend.
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
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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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?
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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
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?
Edna St. Vincent Millay
When I can make Of ten small words a rope to hang the world! I had you and I have you now no more.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
And all the loveliest things there be come simply, so it seems to me.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
But far, oh, far as passionate eye can reach, And long, ah, long as rapturous eye can cling, The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake, Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road A gateless garden, and an open path: My feet to follow, and my heart to hold.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
After the feet of beauty fly my own.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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
