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!
Edna St. Vincent Millay: My Candle Burns at Both Ends
Soar, eat ether, see what has never been seen; Depart, be lost, but climb.
Edna St. Vincent Millay: Climb
After all my erstwhile dear, My no longer cherished; Need we say it was not love, Just because it perished?
Edna St. Vincent Millay: My Erstwhile Dear
Music my rampart, and my only one.
Edna St. Vincent Millay: Music
I know I am but summer to your heart, And not the full four seasons of the year.
Edna St. Vincent Millay: Summer to Your Heart
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.
Edna St. Vincent Millay: A Hole in the World
No one but Night, With tears on her dark face, Watches beside me In this windy place.
Edna St. Vincent Millay: Night
I will be the gladest thing Under the sun! I will touch a hundred flowers And not pick one.
Edna St. Vincent Millay: A Hundred Flowers
Beauty is whatever gives joy.
Edna St. Vincent Millay: Beauty
The soul can split the sky in two...
Edna St. Vincent Millay: Soul
I am glad that I paid so little attention to good advice; had I abided by it I might have been saved from some of my most valuable mistakes.
Edna St. Vincent Millay: Good Advice
The longest absence is less perilous to love than the terrible trials of incessant proximity.
Edna St. Vincent Millay: The Trials of Love
Parrots, tortoises and redwoods live a longer life than men do; Men a longer life than dogs do; Dogs a longer life than love does.
Edna St. Vincent Millay: Parrots, Tortoises and Redwoods
Not truth, but faith, it is that keeps the world alive.
Edna St. Vincent Millay: Faith
The young are so old, they are born with their fingers crossed.
Edna St. Vincent Millay: Age
Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies. Nobody that matters, that is.
Edna St. Vincent Millay: Childhood
I love humanity, but hate people.
Edna St. Vincent Millay: Humanity
If I love you Wednesday, What is that to you? I do not love you Thursday— So much is true.
Edna St. Vincent Millay: If I love you Wednesday...
A person who published a book willfully 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 save him.
Edna St. Vincent Millay: Publishing
Poems are perfect; picketing, sometimes, is better.
Edna St. Vincent Millay: Poems and Picketing