Edna St. Vincent Millay was born 22 February 1892, and died 19 October 1950
- Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.
- You see, I am a poet, and not quite right in the head, darling. It’s only that.
- I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.
- Beauty is whatever gives joy.
- A person who publishes a book wilfully appears before the populace with his pants down. If it is a good book nothing can hurt him. If it is a bad book nothing can help him.
Poetry - Time Does Not Bring Relief
Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,
And last year’s leaves are smoke in every lane;
But last year’s bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide!
There are a hundred places where I fear
To go,—so with his memory they brim!
And entering with relief some quiet place
Where never fell his foot or shone his face
I say, ‘There is no memory of him here!’
And so stand stricken, so remembering him!
Millay was an American lyrical poet, playwright, and feminist. She received the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1923, the third woman to win the award for poetry, and was also known for her activism and her many love affairs. She used the pseudonym Nancy Boyd for her prose work.
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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