A woman is a branchy tree and man a singing wind; and from her branches carelessly he takes what he can find.
My three-thousand mile walk through Ireland convinced me of one thing - the possibility of organising a proper movement for the independence of my native land.
Tell me your past, my beloved, for a man is his past, and is to be known by it.
It is by love alone that we understand anything
The duty of a lyrical poet is not to express or explain, it is to intensify life.
I hear a sudden cry of pain! There is a rabbit in a snare.