Edna St. Vincent Millay Quotes

Left love behind many years ago. Now it rests under a cross in the cemetery in Tombstone.

Love is the funeral of hearts.

D'ye think I don't know?" he asked softly. "It's me that has the easy part now. For if ye feel for me as I do for you-then I'm asking you to tear out your heart and live without it.

Your skin upon my skin, in the beating of our hearts, may the living let us in, before the dead tear us apart.

I don't hate you, I love you, you're part of myself, you're my heart and when you go it's my heart torn out and carried away--

As the presence of those we love is as a double life, so absence, in its anxious longing and sense of vacancy, is as a foretaste of death.

It isn't possible to love and to part.

A broken heart is never a tragedy. Only untimely death is a tragedy.

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

The truth is simple, you do not die from love. You only wish you did.

There was a lot they didn’t tell you about death, she had discovered, and one of the biggies was how long it took the ones you loved most to die in your heart.

I hate you for all the years I 'll have to live without you. How can a heart hurt this much and still go on beating? How can I feel this bad without dying from it? I 've bruised my knees with praying to have you back. None of my prayers have been answered. I tried to send them up to heaven but they 're trapped here on earth, like bobwhites beneath the snow. I try to sleep and it's like I 'm suffocating. Where have you gone? Once you said that if I wasn't with you, it wouldn't be heaven. I can't let go of you. Come back and haunt me. Come back.

Intimacy is not trapped within words. It passes through words. It passes. The truth is that intimates leave the room. Doors close. Faces move away from the window. Time passes. Voices recede into the dark. Death finally quiets the voice. And there is no way to deny it. No way to stand in the crowd, uttering one's family language.

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

There were times Ruma felt closer to her mother in death than she had in life, an intimacy born simply of thinking of her so often, of missing her. But she knew that this was an illusion, a mirage, and that the distance between them was now infinite, unyielding.

If you gave someone your heart and they died, did they take it with them? Did you spend the rest of forever with a hole inside you that couldn't be filled?

Being in love, you know... it's not like having a canary, in a cage. When you lose one sweetheart, you can't just go out and get another to replace her.

Love- what is love? A great and aching heart; Wrung hands; and silence; and a long despair

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.

I have lived with you and loved you, and now you are gone. Gone where I cannot follow, until I have finished all of my days.

Never has grief been possessed, never has love been learned, and what removes us in death is not revealed.

You are never truly together with one you love until the person in question is dead and actually inside you.

A loss, but who still mourns the breath of one woman, or laments one wife? Though my heart never can forget, how, for one look, she gave up her life.

Hearts can break. Yes, hearts can break. Sometimes I think it would be better if we died when they did, but we don't.