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

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.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity.

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

No man has ever lived that had enough of children's gratitude or woman's love.

I carry from my mother's womb a fanatic's heart.

The innocent and the beautiful have no enemy but time.