her beautiful words...

 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