my candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But oh, my foes, and oh my, friends–
It gives such a lovely light
i spent the evening falling in love with Edna St. Vincent Millay. here are the notes:
“she wanted her match in a man she could admire– a man who could dominate her and fire her imagination.” (pg. 72)
edna’s saucy, flirting with married men nearly twice her age via postal mail. kinda reminds me of myself a few years back. oh to be so wonderful again.
“But no man had come to rescue her [Millay] from Camden, Maine– she had rescued herself through poetry.” (pg. 81)
can you tell i am in love with this book? i too am captivated with Millay, who was called Vincent. i envy her. not her fame and fortune– i envy her family. her mother who fostered and encouraged her creativity. i envied her parents who wrote and sang and enjoyed the arts. i envy her sisters who understood and experienced the burning desire to write. to put pen to paper and bleed.