A Poem from Edna St. Vincent Millay: Grown-up Was it for this I uttered prayers, And sobbed and cursed and kicked the stairs, That now, domestic as a plate, I should retire at half-past eight?
Edna St. Vincent MillayRead
There are a hundred places where I fear To go, --so with his memory they brim! And entering with relief some quiet place Where never fell his foot or shone his face I say, 'There is no memory of him here!' And so stand stricken, so remembering him!
Interpretation
What this quote means
The quote reflects the deep impact of memories on our emotions and the desire to find solace in places untouched by those memories.
In this quote, Edna St. Vincent Millay expresses the profound sadness that accompanies remembrance. The speaker describes how the haunting presence of a lost loved one fills numerous locations with fear and sorrow, creating a longing for a place where those painful memories do not intrude. Ultimately, while seeking solace, the speaker confronts the inevitability of grief, recognizing that even in the absence of the individual, the memories of them remain painfully vivid.
Themes
MemoryGriefLossLoveRelationships
In practice
Example use cases
In a memorial speech to honor a loved one who has passed away.
More from Edna St. Vincent Millay
All quotes →Childhood is not from birth to a certain age and at a certain age. The child is grown, and puts away childish things. Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies.
Edna St. Vincent MillayRead
I went to Boston fully expecting to be arrested - arrested by a polizia created by a government that my ancestors rebelled to establish.
Edna St. Vincent MillayRead
Listen, children: Your father is dead. From his old coats I'll make you little jackets; I'll make you little trousers From his old pants. There'll be in his pockets Things he used to put there, Keys and pennies Covered with tobacco; Dan shall have the pennies To save in his bank; Anne shall have the keys To make a pretty noise with. Life must go on, Though good men die; Anne, eat your breakfast; Dan, take your medicine; Life must go on; I forget just why.
Edna St. Vincent MillayRead
I would I were alive again To kiss the fingers of the rain, To drink into my eyes the shine Of every slanting silver line, To catch the freshened, fragrant breeze From drenched and dripping apple-trees. For soon the shower will be done, And then the broad face of the sun Will laugh above the rain-soaked earth Until the world with answering mirth Shakes joyously, and each round drop Rolls twinkling, from its grass-blade top.
Edna St. Vincent MillayRead
I drank at every vine, the last was like the first. I came upon no wine so wonderful as thirst.
Edna St. Vincent MillayRead
Similar quotes
Although many, we might even say most, strangers in this world become easily the victim of a fearful hostility, it is possible for men and women and obligatory for Christians to offer an open and hospitable space where strangers can cast off their strangeness and become our fellow human beings.
Henri NouwenRead
Introverts are capable of acting like extroverts for the sake of work they consider important, people they love, or anything they value highly.
Susan CainRead
Personal relations are the important thing for ever and ever, and not this outer life of telegrams and anger.
E. M. ForsterRead
Unlike 'real relationships', 'virtual relationships' are easy to enter and to exit. They look smart and clean, feel easy to use, when compared with the heavy, slow-moving, messy real stuff.
Zygmunt BaumanRead
No society of nations, no people within a nation, no family can benefit through mutual aid unless good will exceeds ill will; unless the spirit of cooperation surpasses antagonism; unless we all see and act as though the other man's welfare determines our own welfare.
Henry Ford IiRead
I certainly should have,' he agrees, smiling and thinking what an absurd and universally-accepted bit of nonsense it is, that your best friends must necessarily be the ones who best understand you. As if there weren't far too much understanding in the world already; above all, that understanding between lovers, celebrated in song and story, which is actually such torture that no two of them can bear it without frequent separations or fights.
Christopher IsherwoodRead