I desired my dust to be mingled with yours Forever and forever and forever.

The Garden En robe de parade. - Samain Like a skein of loose silk blown against a wall She walks by the railing of a path in Kensington Gardens, And she is dying piece-meal of a sort of emotional anaemia. And round about there is a rabble Of the filthy, sturdy, unkillable infants of the very poor. They shall inherit the earth. In her is the end of breeding. Her boredom is exquisite and excessive. She would like some one to speak to her, And is almost afraid that I will commit that indiscretion.

A general loathing of a gang or sect usually has some sound basis in instinct.

There is no topicmore soporific and generally boring than the topic of Ireland as Ireland, as a nation.

The only thing one can give an artist is leisure in which to work. To give an artist leisure is actually to take part in his creation.

Properly, we should read for power. Man reading should be man intensely alive. The book should be a ball of light in one's hand.

Real education must ultimately be limited to men who insist on knowing, the rest is mere sheep-herding.