An aged man is but a paltry thing, a tattered coat upon a stick

The things a man has heard and seen are threads of life, and if he pull them carefully from the confused distaff of memory, any who will can weave them into whatever garments of belief please them best. I too have woven my garment like another, but I shall try to keep warm in it, and shall be well content if it do not unbecome me.

Speech after long silence; it is right, All other lovers being estranged or dead . . . That we descant and yet again descant Upon the supreme theme of Art and Song: Bodily decrepitude is wisdom; young We loved each other and were ignorant.

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

What do we know but that we face one another in this place?

The mystical life is at the centre of all that I do and all that I think and all that I write.

I think all happiness depends on the energy to assume the mask of some other life, on a re-birth as something not one's self.