Edna St. Vincent Millay Quotes

I remember, as a kid, my first breakup at 14 years old, I was jamming to Toni Braxton trying to heal out here. Why did an angel break my heart? Hell, I don't know.

Love lost is a special kind of failure, I think. It's a reminder that some consummations, no matter how devoutly wished for, never come; that some apes will never be men, not in all the world's ages.

He doesn't deserve it. he can have any girl in the world's love and he took yours. someone who deserves so much more than a summer fling

Rivers of tear drops, these sharp pains in my heart, if this was the way that you love, you never should have loved me

‎Keep your love, I have no use for it anymore.

A dead love never dies.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Love isn't always pretty. Sometimes you spend all your time hoping it'll eventually be something different. Something better. Then, before you know it, you're back to square one, and you lost your heart somewhere along the way.

She just wished loving him didn’t always have to be so hard.

Sharp knives seemed to cut her delicate feet, yet she hardly felt them, so deep was the pain in her heart. She could not forget that this was the last night she would ever see the one for whom she had left her home and family, had given up her beautiful voice, and had day by day endured unending torment, of which he knew nothing at all. An eternal night awaited her.

A part of her wanted to tell him she still loved him, and that even though this love was hopeless and long over, it still consumed her year after year. It was a tangled hairball of feelings and she couldn't pull forth any one strand.

Why did he have to be so gorgeous? Why did he have to stand so close, and why did I still love him so much?

You loved me-then what right had you to leave me? What right-answer me-for the poor fancy you felt for Linton? Because misery and degradation, and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will, did it. I have not broken your heart- you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine." ~Heathcliff

If with love thy heart has burned; If thy love is unreturned; Hide thy grief within thy breast, Though it tear thee unexpressed; For when love has once departed From the eyes of the false-hearted, And one by one has torn off quite The bandages of purple light; Though thou wert the loveliest Form the soul had ever dressed, Thou shalt seem, in each reply, A vixen to his altered eye; Thy softest pleadings seem too bold, Thy praying lute will seem to scold; Though thou kept the straightest road, Yet thou errest far and broad.

Deep in earth my love is lying And I must weep alone.

Why is love so good...? You love someone and they leave. They come home one day and you say "What's happening?" and they say, "I got a better offer someplace else," and there they go, out of your life forever, and after that until you're dead you're carrying around this huge hunk of love with no one to give it to. And if you do find someone to give it to, the same thing happens all over.

She was lonely without Blunt, but she was lonelier at the idea that the world went on as though she had not loved him.

Even so you have managed to live that love in the only way possible for you. Losing it before it happened.

Little Jane's love would have been my best reward, without it, my heart is broken.

It surely is far better to be disliked by somebody you don't love than by somebody you do. Even so, I mind. Even so, failing to love somebody is a failure.

A broken heart is a monument to a love that will never die; fulfillment is a monument to a love that is already on its deathbed.

This hole in my heart is in the shape of you. No one else can fit it. Why would I want them to?

I'll bet she's beautiful, that girl he talks about, and she's got everything that I have to live without... He's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar, the only one who's got enough of me to break my heart. He's the song in the car I keep singing; don't know why I do.