People From St Louis

"Edna wondered if they had all gone mad, to be talking and clamoring at that rate. She herself could think of nothing to say about Mexico or the Mexicans."

"The present alone was significant; was hers, to torture her as it was doing then with the biting conviction that she had lost that which she had held, that she had been denied that which her impassioned, newly awakened being demanded."

"She was moved by a kind of commiseration for Madame Ratignolle — a pity for that colorless existence which never uplifted its possessor beyond the region of blind contentment, in which no moment of anguish ever visited her soul, in which she would never have the taste of life's delirium."

"She could only realize that she herself — her present self — was in some way different from the other self. That she was seeing with different eyes."

"The voice of the sea is seductive; never ceasing, whispering, clamoring, murmuring, inviting the soul to wander for a spell in abysses of solitude; to lose itself in mazes of inward contemplation."

"Sometimes I feel this summer as if I were walking through the green meadow again; idly, aimlessly, unthinking, and unguided."

"She says a wedding is one of the most lamentable spectacles on earth."

"As she swam she seemed to be reaching out for the unlimited in which to lose herself."

"Looking at his wife as one looks at a valuable piece of property which has suffered some damage."

"An indescribable oppression, which seemed to generate in some unfamiliar part of her consciousness, filled her with a vague anguish...like a shadow... a mist passing across her soul's summer day."

"Do you suppose a woman knows why she loves? Does she select? Does she say to herself, 'Go to! here is a distinguished statesman with presidential possibilities; I shall proceed to fall in love with him.' or, 'I shall set my heart upon this musician, whose fame is on every tongue?' or 'this financier, who controls the world's money markets?'"

"The bird that would soar above the plane of tradition and prejudice must have strong wings. It is a sad spectacle to see the weaklings bruised, exhausted, fluttering back to earth."

"We had some problems with the Howard newspaper strip, which led to problems with the Howard book, which ultimately led to the lawsuit. Marvel wouldn't pay the artist to draw it. Gene Colan and I were supposed to get a percentage of the syndicate's take for the strip. The problem was, the money came in 90 days, 120 days, six months — I don't remember how long exactly — after the strips were published. So, essentially, the artist was working for nothing up until that time, and no artist can afford to do that. [In comparison with Stan Lee and John Romita|'s Spider-Man comic strip,] Stan, as publisher of Marvel, had a regular salary coming in, and John Romita, I believe, was also on staff at the time. They didn't have quite the same problem."

"Oh, is it not enough to be Here with this beauty over me? My throat should ache with praise, and I Should kneel in joy beneath the sky. Oh, beauty are you not enough?"

"Oh, beauty, are you not enough? Why am I crying after love?"

"The greenish sky glows up in misty reds, The purple shadows turn to brick and stone, The dreams wear thin, men turn upon their beds, And hear the milk-cart jangle by alone."

"There is no sign of leaf or bud, A hush is over everything — Silent as women wait for love, The world is waiting for the spring."

"I hope that when he smiles at me He does not guess my joy and pain, For if he did, he is too kind To ever look my way again."

"I am the pool of gold When sunset burns and dies,— You are my deepening skies, Give me your stars to hold."

"With the man I love who loves me not I walked in the street-lamps' flare — But oh, the girls who can ask for love In the lights of Union Square."

"I would live in your love as the sea-grasses live in the sea, Borne up by each wave as it passes, drawn down by each wave that recedes."

"Perhaps when all the world is bare And cruel winter holds the land, The Love that finds no place to hide Will run and catch my hand. I shall not care to have him then, I shall be bitter and a-cold — It grows too late for frolicking When all the world is old.Then little hiding Love, come forth, Come forth before the autumn goes, And let us seek thro' ruined paths The garden's last red rose."

"I may not speak till Eros' torch is dim, The god is bitter and will have it so."

"When I am dead and over me bright April Shakes out her rain-drenched hair, Tho' you should lean above me broken-hearted, I shall not care. I shall have peace, as leafy trees are peaceful When rain bends down the bough, And I shall be more silent and cold-hearted Than you are now."

"All this grows bitter that was once so sweet, And many mouths must drain the dregs of it. But none will pity me, nor pity him Whom Love so lashed, and with such cruel thongs."

"Make songs for Death as you would sing to Love — But you will not assuage him. He alone Of all the gods will take no gifts from men."

"For tho' I know he loves me, To-night my heart is sad; His kiss was not so wonderful As all the dreams I had."

"We weep before the Blessed Mother's shrine, To think upon her sorrows, but her joys What nun could ever know a tithing of? The precious hours she watched above His sleep Were worth the fearful anguish of the end. Yea, lack of love is bitterest of all."

"This is the funeral pyre and Troy is dead That sparkled so the day I saw it first, And darkened slowly after. I am she Who loves all beauty — yet I wither it."

"My dreams are over, I have ceased to cry Against the fate that made men love my mouth And left their spirits all too deaf to hear The little songs that echoed through my soul. I have no anger now. The dreams are done; Yet since the Greeks and Trojans would not see Aught but my body's fairness, till the end, In all the islands set in all the seas, And all the lands that lie beneath the sun, Till light turn darkness, and till time shall sleep, Men's lives shall waste with longing after me, For I shall be the sum of their desire, The whole of beauty, never seen again."

"No one worth possessing Can be quite possessed."

"And as I played, a child came thro' the gate, A boy who looked at me without a word, As tho' he saw stretch far behind my head Long lines of radiant angels, row on row. That day we spoke a little, timidly, And after that I never heard the voice That sang so many songs for love of me."

"I lift my heart as spring lifts up A yellow daisy to the rain; My heart will be a lovely cup Altho' it holds but pain. For I shall learn from flower and leaf That color every drop they hold, To change the lifeless wine of grief To living gold."

"Ah, Aphrodite, if I sing no more To thee, God's daughter, powerful as God, It is that thou hast made my life too sweet To hold the added sweetness of a song. There is a quiet at the heart of love, And I have pierced the pain and come to peace."

"If I am peaceful, I shall see Beauty's face continually; Feeding on her wine and bread I shall be wholly comforted, For she can make one day for me Rich as my lost eternity."

"I am alone, as though I stood On the highest peak of the tired gray world, About me only swirling snow, Above me, endless space unfurled; With earth hidden and heaven hidden, And only my own spirit's pride To keep me from the peace of those Who are not lonely, having died."

"Oh Earth, you gave me all I have, I love you, I love you, — oh what have I That I can give you in return — Except my body after I die?"

"The window-lights, myriads and myriads, Bloom from the walls like climbing flowers."

"But you I never understood, Your spirit's secret hides like gold Sunk in a Spanish galleon Ages ago in waters cold."

"It will not hurt me when I am old, A running tide where moonlight burned Will not sting me like silver snakes; The years will make me sad and cold, It is the happy heart that breaks."

"O lovely chance, what can I do To give my gratefulness to you? You rise between myself and me With a wise persistency; I would have broken body and soul, But by your grace, still I am whole."

"I should be glad of loneliness And hours that go on broken wings, A thirsty body, a tired heart And the unchanging ache of things, If I could make a single song As lovely and as full of light, As hushed and brief as a falling star On a winter night."

"But I will turn my eyes from you As women turn to put away The jewels they have worn at night And cannot wear in sober day."

"If I can find out God, then I shall find Him, If none can find Him, then I shall sleep soundly, Knowing how well on earth your love sufficed me, A lamp in darkness."

"Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree If mankind perished utterly;And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn, Would scarcely know that we were gone."

"I try to catch at many a tune Like petals of light fallen from the moon, Broken and bright on a dark lagoon,But they float away — for who can hold Youth, or perfume or the moon's gold?"

"How should they know that Sappho lived and died Faithful to love, not faithful to the lover, Never transfused and lost in what she loved, Never so wholly loving nor at peace."

"I have grown weary of the winds of heaven. I will not be a reed to hold the sound Of whatsoever breath the gods may blow, Turning my torment into music for them. They gave me life; the gift was bountiful, I lived with the swift singing strength of fire, Seeking for beauty as a flame for fuel — Beauty in all things and in every hour. The gods have given life — I gave them song; The debt is paid and now I turn to go."

"But oh, to him I loved Who loved me not at all, I owe the little open gate That led thru heaven's wall."

"Life has loveliness to sell, All beautiful and splendid things, Blue waves whitened on a cliff, Soaring fire that sways and sings, And children's faces looking up Holding wonder like a cup."