Edna St. Vincent Millay

And her voice is a string of colored beads, Or steps leading into the sea.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

I cannot say what loves have come and gone, I only know that summer sang in me A little while, that in me sings no more.

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

She loves me all that she can, And her ways to my ways resign; But she was not made for any man, And she never will be all mine.

Edna St. Vincent Millay