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What does it mean to live brightly, even if it doesn’t last?
In this episode, we enter First Fig — a four-line masterpiece by Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892–1950), one of America’s most luminous and unruly poetic voices.
My candle burns at both ends;It will not last the night;But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—It gives a lovely light!
Through Millay’s words, Amy reflects on the autumnal art of burning — how the season turns, glows, and gives itself away before surrendering to winter’s quiet & white. She traces Millay’s extraordinary life: her radical independence, her fame, her defiance of literary and social conventions, and her life that, like October itself, blazed with beauty and brevity.
Content Note: This episode includes references to illness, addiction, and mortality
Music Credits: @JonnyEaston
By Amy SinghWhat does it mean to live brightly, even if it doesn’t last?
In this episode, we enter First Fig — a four-line masterpiece by Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892–1950), one of America’s most luminous and unruly poetic voices.
My candle burns at both ends;It will not last the night;But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—It gives a lovely light!
Through Millay’s words, Amy reflects on the autumnal art of burning — how the season turns, glows, and gives itself away before surrendering to winter’s quiet & white. She traces Millay’s extraordinary life: her radical independence, her fame, her defiance of literary and social conventions, and her life that, like October itself, blazed with beauty and brevity.
Content Note: This episode includes references to illness, addiction, and mortality
Music Credits: @JonnyEaston