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
Upon this gifted age, in its dark hour falls from the sky a meteoric shower of facts; They lie unquestioned, uncombined. Wisdom enough to leech us of our ill is daily spun, But there exists no loom to weave it into fabric.
Interpretation
What this quote means
In the modern age, we are overwhelmed by information, yet we struggle to transform it into meaningful knowledge.
Edna St. Vincent Millay highlights the paradox of the contemporary age where facts and information are abundant, yet there is a lack of wisdom to process and combine that information into useful knowledge. The quote suggests that while we receive ample insights that could alleviate our problems, we lack the means or systems (the 'loom') to integrate these insights effectively into our lives, resulting in a disconnection between knowledge and understanding.
Themes
WisdomKnowledgeInformationUnderstandingModern Age
In practice
Example use cases
In a discussion about the overload of digital information and its impact on society.
More from Edna St. Vincent Millay
All quotes βChildhood 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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