To ask the hard question is simple.

Most people call something profound, not because it is near some important truth but because it is distant from ordinary life. Thus, darkness is profound to the eye, silence to the ear; what-is-not is the profundity of what-is.

In the end, art is small beer. The really serious things are earning one's living so as not to be a parasite and loving one's neighbor.

Time will say nothing but I told you so, Time only knows the price we have to pay; If I could tell you I would let you know.

Earth, receive an honored guest; William Yeats is laid to rest. Let the Irish vessel lie Emptied of its poetry.

Thousands have lived without love, not one without water.

Lay your sleeping head, my love, Human on my faithless arm.