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
I've written so many verses and keep on writing so many more that I became afraid that if I didn't write them into one big book, I might forget some of them.
Interpretation
What this quote means
The quote expresses the fear of losing creative thoughts and the desire to preserve them in one collection.
Edna St. Vincent Millay reflects on her prolific writing and the anxiety that comes with the possibility of forgetting her creations. The act of writing them down in one comprehensive book symbolizes the need to protect one’s artistic expression and ensure that it endures, highlighting the importance of documenting creativity as a safeguard against loss.
Themes
WritingCreativityPreservationFearMemory
In practice
Example use cases
This quote can be used in a speech about the importance of preserving art.
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.
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I went to Boston fully expecting to be arrested - arrested by a polizia created by a government that my ancestors rebelled to establish.
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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
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