I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade. And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings.

From our birthday, until we die, Is but the winking of an eye.

All empty souls tend toward extreme opinions.

It's certain there are trout somewhere - And maybe I shall take a trout - but I do not seem to care.

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

If suffering brings wisdom, I would wish to be less wise.

For Death who takes what man would keep, Leaves what man would lose.