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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374577" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Fontaine, Je Ne Boirai Pas De Ton Eau!</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374577" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I know I might have lived in such a way<br>As to have suffered only pain:<br>Loving not man nor dog;<br>Not money, even; feeling<br>Toothache perhaps, but never more than an hour away<br>From skill and novocaine;<br>Making no contacts, dealing with life through Agents, drinking<br> one cocktail, betting two dollars, wearing raincoats in the<br> rain.<br>Betrayed at length by no one but the fog<br>Whispering to the wing of the plane.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374577" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"Fountain," I have cried to that unbubbling well, "I will not<br> drink of thy water!" Yet I thirst<br>For a mouthful of—not to swallow, only to rinse my mouth in<br> —peace.<br>And while the eyes of the past condemn,<br>The eyes of the present narrow into assignation. And—<br> worst— <br>The young are so old, they are born with their fingers crossed;<br> I shall get no help from them.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Edna+St.+Vincent+Millay">Edna St. Vincent Millay</a></strong></div>

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