There is no God. But it does not matter. Man is enough. Edna St. Vincent Millay More Quotes by Edna St. Vincent Millay More Quotes From Edna St. Vincent Millay Not for the flag Of any land because myself was born there Will I give up my life. But I will love that land where man is free, And that will I defend. Edna St. Vincent Millay giving-uplandmen Life in itself / Is nothing, / An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs. / It is not enough that yearly, down this hill, / April / Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers. Edna St. Vincent Millay aprilcupsflower Cut if you will with sleep's dull knife, the years from off your life, my friend! the years that death takes off my life, he'll take from off the other end! Edna St. Vincent Millay cuttingsleepyears The world stands out on either side No wider than the heart is wide; Above the world is stretched the sky, No higher than the soul is high. The heart can push the sea and land Farther away on either hand; The soul can split the sky in two, And let the face of God shine through. But East and West will pinch the heart That can not keep them pushed apart; And he whose soul is flat—the sky Will cave in on him by and by. Edna St. Vincent Millay seahearthands No one but Night, with tears on her dark face, watches beside me in this windy place. Edna St. Vincent Millay starsdarknight I have loved badly, loved the great Too soon, withdrawn my words too late; And eaten in an echoing hall Alone and from a chipped plate The words that I withdrew too late. Edna St. Vincent Millay all-aloneregrettoo-late Ah, drink again This river that is the taker-away of pain, And the giver-back of beauty! In these cool waves What can be lost?-- Only the sorry cost Of the lovely thing, ah, never the thing itself! The level flood that laves The hot brow And the stiff shoulder Is at our temples now. Gone is the fever, But not into the river; Melted the frozen pride, But the tranquil tide Runs never the warmer for this, Never the colder. Immerse the dream. Drench the kiss. Dip the song in the stream. Edna St. Vincent Millay dreamrunningsong I shall forget you presently, my dear, So make the most of this, your little day, Your little month, your little half a year, Ere I forget, or die, or move away, And we are done forever; by and by I shall forget you, as I said, but now, If you entreat me with your loveliest lie I will protest you with my favorite vow. I would indeed that love were longer-lived, And vows were not so brittle as they are, But so it is, and nature has contrived To struggle on without a break thus far,-- Whether or not we find what we are seeking Is idle, biologically speaking. Edna St. Vincent Millay strugglelyingmoving 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! Edna St. Vincent Millay painrainmemories Beauty in all things-no, we cannot hope for that; but some place set apart for it. Edna St. Vincent Millay all-thingsbeauty I dread no more the first white in my hair, Or even age itself, the easy shoe, The cane, the wrinkled hands, the special chair: Time, doing this to me, may alter too My anguish, into something I can bear Edna St. Vincent Millay shoeshairhands Without music I should wish to die. Edna St. Vincent Millay wish-to-diemusicshould Oh, children, growing up to be Adventurers into sophistry, Forbear, forbear to be of those That read the rood to learn the rose. Edna St. Vincent Millay growing-upeducationchildren For my omniscience paid I toll In infinite remorse of soul. All sin was of my sinning, all Atoning mine, and mine the gall Of all regret. Mine was the weight Of every brooded wrong, the hate That stood behind each envious thrust, Mine every greed, mine every lust. And all the while for every grief, Each suffering, I craved relief With individual desire, – Craved all in vain! And felt fierce fire About a thousand people crawl; Perished with each, — then mourned for all! Edna St. Vincent Millay regrethategrief Life has no friend. Edna St. Vincent Millay no-friendslife I drank at every vine, the last was like the first. I came upon no wine so wonderful as thirst. Edna St. Vincent Millay vineslastswine Spring TO what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough. You can no longer quiet me with the redness Of little leaves opening stickily. I know what I know. The sun is hot on my neck as I observe The spikes of the crocus. The smell of the earth is good. It is apparent that there is no death. But what does that signify? Not only under ground are the brains of men Eaten by maggots. Life in itself Is nothing, An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs. It is not enough that yearly, down this hill, April Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers. Edna St. Vincent Millay flowerspringmen And what are you that, missing you, I should be kept awake As many nights as there are days With weeping for your sake? And what are you that, missing you, As many days as crawl I should be listening to the wind And looking at the wall? I know a man that’s a braver man And twenty men as kind, And what are you, that you should be The one man in my mind? Yet women’s ways are witless ways, As any sage will tell,— And what am I, that I should love So wisely and so well? Edna St. Vincent Millay wallmennight Euclid Alone Has Looked on Beauty Bare. Edna St. Vincent Millay mathematical-beautyeuclidmath If I could have two things in one: the peace of the grave, and the light of the sun. Edna St. Vincent Millay lightsuntwo
