How can we know the dancer from the dance?

I am still of opinion that only two topics can be of the least interest to a serious and studious mood - sex and the dead.

Now as at all times I can see in the mind's eye, In their stiff, painted clothes, the pale unsatisfied ones Appear and disappear in the blue depth of the sky With all their ancient faces like rain- beaten stones, And all their helms of silver hovering.

We taste and feel and see the truth. We do not reason ourselves into it.

If soul my look and body touch, Which is the more blest?

The only business of the head in the world is to bow a ceaseless obeisance to the heart.

Let the minor genius go his light way and enjoy his life - the great nature cannot so live, he is never really in holiday mood, even though he often plucks flowers by the wayside and ties them into knots and garlands like little children and lays out on a sunny morning.