Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means, Time held me green and dying Though I sang in my chains like the sea.

These are but dreaming men. Breathe, and they fade.

Hands have not tears to flow.

I hold a beast, an angel, and a madman in me, and my enquiry is as to their working, and my problem is their subjugation and victory, down throw and upheaval, and my effort is their self-expression.

Too many of the artists of Wales spend too much time talking about the position of theartists of Wales.There is only one position for an artist anywhere: and that is, upright.

Though they go mad they shall be sane, though they sink through the sea they shall rise again; though lovers be lost love shall not; and death shall have no dominion.

Washington isn't a city, it's an abstraction.