Oh, children, growing up to be Adventurers into sophistry, Forbear, forbear to — Edna St. Vincent Millay
Progress-progress is the dirtiest word in the language-who ever told us- And — Edna St. Vincent Millay
You see, I am a poet, and not quite right in the head, darling. It’s only that. — Edna St. Vincent Millay
A ghost in marble of a girl you knew Who would have loved you in a day or two. — Edna St. Vincent Millay
It’s not true that life is one damn thing after another; it’s one damn thing over and over. — Edna St. Vincent Millay
Childhood is not from birth to a certain age and at a certain age the child is grown — Edna St. Vincent Millay
I dread no more the first white in my hair, or even age itself, the easy shoe — Edna St. Vincent Millay
Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind; — Edna St. Vincent Millay