And must I then, indeed, Pain, live with you all through my life?-sharing my fire, my bed, Sharing-oh, worst of all things!-the same head?- And, when I feed myself, feeding you too?
Edna St. Vincent MillayBut you, you foolish girl, you have gone home to a leaky castle across the sea to lie awake in linen smelling of lavender, and hear the nightingale, and long for me.
Edna St. Vincent MillayI, being born a woman and distressed By all the needs and notions of my kind.
Edna St. Vincent MillayAlthough we sometimes did without a few of life's necessities, we rarely lacked for its luxuries.
Edna St. Vincent Millay