Top 215 Quotes & Sayings by Edna St. Vincent Millay - Page 4

The only people I really hate are servants. They're not really human beings at all.

It's not love's going hurts my days But that it went in little ways.

Death devours all lovely things; Lesbia with her sparrow Shares the darkness--presently Every bed is narrow.

How strange a thing is death, bringing to his knees, bringing to his antlers The buck in the snow . . . Life, looking out attentive from the eyes of the doe.

To be grown up is to sit at the table with people who have died, who neither listen nor speak.

Night falls fast. Today is in the past. Blown from the dark hill hither to my door Three flakes, then four Arrive, then many more.

l am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground. So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind: Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

After the feet of beauty fly my own.

She is happy where she lies With the dust upon her eyes.

Catch from the board of beauty/ Such careless crumbs as fall.

it may be said of me by Harper & Brothers, that although I reject their proposals, I welcome their advances.

Strange how few, After alls said and done, the things that are Of moment.

Dust in an urn long since, dispersed and dead Is great Apollo; and the happier he

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.

Life isn't all beer and skittles; few of us have touched a skittle in years.

Life goes on forever like the gnawing of a mouse.

Guess I'll weep awhile. Guess I won't, I mean.

Father, I beg of Thee a little task To dignify my days, 'tis all I ask.

And he whose soul is flat -- the sky Will cave in on him by and by.

If I love you Wednesday, What is that to you? I do not love you Thursday - so much is true.

[on going to Sunday school:] It looks like rain, and I hope it will rain cats and dogs and hammers and pitchforks and silver sugar spoons and hay ricks and paper-covered novels and picture frames and rag carpets and toothpicks and skating rinks and birds of paradise and roof gardens and burdocks and French grammars before Sunday school time.

On and on eternally Shall your altered fluid run, Bud and bloom and go to seed; But your singing days are done

I had a little sorrow, Born of a little sin.

Euclid alone has looked on Beauty bare. Let all who prate of Beauty hold their peace, And lay them prone upon the earth and cease To ponder on themselves, the while they stare At nothing, intricately drawn nowhere In shapes of shifting lineage; let geese Gabble and hiss, but heroes seek release From dusty bondage into luminous air. O blinding hour, O holy, terrible day, When first the shaft into his vision shone Of light anatomized! 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.

Her lawn looks like a meadow, And if she mows the place She leaves the clover standing And the Queen Anne's Lace.

If ever I said in grief or pride, I'd tired of honest things, I lied.

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.

Childhood is not from birth to a certain age and at a certain age. The child is grown, and puts away childish things. Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies.

But she was not made for any man, and she will never be all mine.

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.

Time can make soft that iron wood.

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

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

I only know that summer sang in me A little while, that in me sings no more.

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 !