Beads Quote by Edna St. Vincent Millay Download Open image “And her voice is a string of colored beads, Or steps leading into the sea.” — Edna St. Vincent Millay ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 3.3 out of 5 (3 ratings) Copy quoteShare Beads Sea Steps Strings Voice
“Her voice was caught in the shell of my ear, as if it were the ocean.” — Jodi Picoult Copy Share Image
She is kind and very beautiful. But she can be so cruel and it comes so suddenly and such birds that fly, dipping and… — Ernest Hemingway Copy Share Image
The sea pronounces something, over and over, in a hoarse whisper; I cannot quite make it out. — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
“The Idea of Order at Key West She sang beyond the genius of the sea. The water never formed to mind or voice, Like… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
“Her blonde tresses now lay unbound and flowing in comely waves down her back, like pale serpents against the blue sea of her costume.” — Andrea Zuvich Copy Share Image
The ocean asks for nothing but those who stand by her shores gradually attune themselves to her rhythm. — Charles Dickens Copy Share Image
“She felt like a creature born to reside on the bottom of the ocean floor, dark and flat and half-blind, slowly rising through the… — Lisa Jewell Copy Share Image
In that moment she gets out her blade, Which she draws across her skin & She realizes the voices are starting to win. — Obviously Me :p Copy Share Image
The voice of the sea is seductive, never ceasing, whispering, clamoring, murmuring, inviting the soul to wander in abysses of solitude. — Kate Chopin Copy Share Image
The rumble of the life outside was like the sound of the sea which was rising gradually around her. — Jean Rhys Copy Share Image
There are a hundred places where I fear To go, --so with his memory they brim! And entering with relief some quiet place Where… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
The first rose on my rose-tree Budded, bloomed, and shattered, During sad days when to me Nothing mattered. Grief or grief has drained me… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
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… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
And reaching up my hand to try, I screamed to feel it touch the sky. — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
“And you as well must die, beloved dust, And all your beauty stand you in no stead; This flawless, vital hand, this perfect head,… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Oh, children, growing up to be Adventurers into sophistry, Forbear, forbear to be of those That read the rood to learn the rose. — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Some of us have been thinking and talking too long without doing anything. Poems are perfect; picketing, sometimes, is better. — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
“But, sure, the sky is big, I said; Miles and miles above my head; So here upon my back I'll lie And look my… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
pity me that the heart is slow to learn what the swift mind beholds at every turn. — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
The translucence that comes when life hardens into a bead of such cruel perfection you see it with the purest clarity. Everything suddenly there--life… — Sue Monk Kidd Copy Share Image
slowly the pale dew-beads of light lapped up from flowers can thicken, darken to gold: honey of the human. — Denise Levertov Copy Share Image
You think you know yourself, the world. You believe you've got a bead on everybody else's bullshit, but what about your own? — Sam Lipsyte Copy Share Image
I think all writers are always collecting characters as we go along. Not just characters of course, we're collecting EVERYTHING. Bits and pieces of… — Alexandra Sokoloff Copy Share Image
Deciding to chant the mantra a certain number of times daily will help foster the japa habit. We should always keep a rosary with… — Mata Amritanandamayi Copy Share Image
Then, when people saw you strolling around at high noon holding your rosary beads, they’d think, ‘Well, that can’t be a vampire. — Jeaniene Frost Copy Share Image
We must always remember that God is Love. "A fool indeed is he who, living on the banks of the Ganga, seeks to dig… — Swami Vivekananda Copy Share Image
Every time some new huckster of angst-ridden metaphor is appointed by Art Forum, the congregation genuflects, stroking the catalog like a handful of Rosary… — Abe Ajay Copy Share Image
SHE is neither pink nor pale, And she never will be all mine; She learned her hands in a fairy-tale, And her mouth on… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Reading a text is more like tracing this process of constant flickering than it is like counting the beads on a necklace. — Terry Eagleton Copy Share Image
Loyalty to God is alone fundamental. Feelings, words, deeds, must be beads strung on the string of duty. Let the world tell you in… — Maltbie Davenport Babcock Copy Share Image
closed my eyes and listened. It was like music I'd heard all my life, even more than "This Lullaby." All those keystrokes, all those… — Sarah Dessen Copy Share Image
