Beauty never slumbers; All is in her name; But the rose remembers The dust from which it came.

Beautiful as a dandelion-blossom, golden in the green grass, This life can be. Common as a dandelion-blossom, beautiful in the clean grass, not beautiful Because common, beautiful because beautiful, Noble because common, because free.

I will be the gladdest thing under the sun! I will touch a hundred flowers and not pick one.

A ghost in marble of a girl you knew Who would have loved you in a day or two.

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?

I am not at all in favor of hard work for its own sake; many people who work very hard indeed produce terrible things, and should most certainly not be encouraged.

And he whose soul is flat -- the sky Will cave in on him by and by.