
I can be any place speaking of love, loss and grief. These are universal feelings. It doesn't matter, which century, what place, what culture. These hurt and how. Still, in those poems I am trying to come into terms with myself.
~Renascence and Other Poems by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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"This door you might not open, and you did;
So enter now, and see for what slight thing
You are betrayed... Here is no treasure hid,
No cauldron, no clear crystal mirroring
The sought-for truth, no heads of women slain
For greed like yours, no writhings of distress,
But only what you see... Look yet again—
An empty room, cobwebbed and comfortless.
Yet this alone out of my life I kept
Unto myself, lest any know me quite;
And you did so profane me when you crept
Unto the threshold of this room to-night
That I must never more behold your face.
This now is yours. I seek another place."
~Bluebeard, Page 73, Renascence and Other Poems by Edna St. Vincent Millay