Edna St. Vincent Millay Quotes

Sorrow, on wing through the world for ever, Here and there for awhile would borrow Rest, if rest might haply deliver Sorrow.

The human heart dares not stay away too long from that which hurt it most. There is a return journey to anguish that few of us are released from making.

The first pressure of sorrow crushes out from our hearts the best wine; afterwards the constant weight of it brings forth bitterness, the taste and stain from the lees of the vat.

The heart overwhelmed by grief knows no rest.

If you no longer live, if you my beloved, my love, if you have died, all the leaves will fall in my breast, it will rain in my soul night and day, the snow will burn my heart, I shall walk with frost and fire and death and snow, my feet will want to walk to where you are sleeping, but I shall live

So you shun me? - you shut yourself up and grieve alone! I would rather you had come and upbraided me with vehemence. You are passionate: I expected a scene of some kind. I was prepared for the hot rain of tears; only I wanted them to be shed on my breast: now a senseless floor has received them, or your drenched handkerchief. But I err: you have not wept at all! I see a white cheek and faded eye, but no trace of tears. I suppose, then, that your heart has been weeping blood?

People talk of sorrow as if it is soft, a thing of water and tears. But true sorrow is not soft. True sorrow is a thing of fire, and rock. It burns your heart, crushes your soul under the weight of mountains. It destroys, and even if you keep breathing, keep going, you die.

Hope is a punishable offense. The verdict is always death; one more death of the heart.

Her heart ached as though a knife had quietly slipped between her ribs.

It breaks my heart to think about a family weeping over the loss of a loved one. I understand the anguish that some feel about the death that takes place.

To be more precise it was the color of heartache.

One bitter time of mourning, I remember, When day, and night, my sad heart did complain, My life, I said, was one cold, bleak December, And all its pleasures, were but whited pain.

My chest hurts...It hurts. The sound of his name is like a knife in my heart.

He broke my heart, and now it's raining, just to rub it in.

When the baby dies, On every side Rose stranger's voices, hard and harsh and loud. The baby was not wrapped in any shroud. The mother made no sound. Her head was bowed That men's eyes might not see Her misery.

This tragic brow, these closed eyes, eyebrows raised and knotted.

Grief is an emotion that's almost unplayable because you're in a separate emotional state; it's an inconsolable emotion.

I hate death; it takes people away from you. You're left feeling rudderless.

One cannot be deeply responsive to the world without being saddened very often.

Tears fall in my heart like the rain on the town.

There's no comfort in the truth, pain is all you'll find.

There is no corner too quiet, or too far away, for a woman to make sorrow in it.

And my little sister died when she was 16.

The murder of Sean Brown hurt my soul.