It is so many years before one can believe enough in what one feels even to know what the feeling is

There is another world, but it is in this one.

That toil of growing up; The ignominy of boyhood; the distress Of boyhood changing into man; The unfinished man and his pain.

In dreams begins responsibility.

What do we know but that we face one another in this place?

Swift has sailed into his rest; Savage indignation there Cannot lacerate his breast Imitate him if you dare, World-besotted traveler; he Served human liberty.

Wine enters through the mouth, Love, the eyes. I raise the glass to my mouth, I look at you, I sigh.