Land of Heart's Desire Where beauty has no ebb, decay no flood, But joy is wisdom, time an endless song.

When I think of all the books I have read, and of the wise words I have heard spoken, and of the anxiety I have given to parents and grandparents, and of the hopes that I have had, all life weighed in the scales of my own life seems to me a preparation for something that never happens.

While they danced they came over them the weariness with the world, the melancholy, the pity one for the other, which is the exultation of love.

The mystical life is the centre of all that I do and all that I think and all that I write. . . . I have always considered myself a voice of what I believe to be a greater renaissance - the revolt of the soul against the intellect.

Man has created death.

Hearts are not had as a gift, But hearts are earned.

An aged man is but a paltry thing, a tattered coat upon a stick, unless soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing for every tatter in its mortal dress.