Once out of nature I shall never take My bodily form from any natural thing, But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make Of hammered gold and gold enameling To keep a drowsy Emperor awake; Or set upon a golden bough to sing To lords and ladies of Byzantium Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

The worst thing about some men is that when they are not drunk they are sober.

A poet is a good citizen turned inside out.

Many ingenious lovely things are gone / That seemed sheer miracle to the multitude.

We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, but of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry.

Before me floats an image, man or shade, / Shade more than man, more image than a shade.

Wine comes in at the mouth And love comes in at the eye; That's all we shall know for truth Before we grow old and die.