A person who publishes a book appears willfully in public eye with his pants down.
Edna St. Vincent MillayLife in itself / Is nothing, / An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs. / It is not enough that yearly, down this hill, / April / Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.
Edna St. Vincent MillayThe Englishman foxtrots as he fox-hunts, with all his being, through thickets, through ditches, over hedges, through chiffons, through waiters, over saxophones, to the victorious finish; and who goes home depends on how many the ambulance will accommodate.
Edna St. Vincent MillayWe think-although of course, now, we very seldom Clearly think- That the other side of War is Peace.
Edna St. Vincent Millay