I bring you with reverent hands The books of my numberless dreams.

Fairies in Ireland are sometimes as big as we are, sometimes bigger, and sometimes, as I have been told, about three feet high.

There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings.

And the merry love the fiddle, and the merry love to dance.

Why should we honour those that die upon the field of battle? A man may show as reckless a courage in entering into the abyss of himself.

Literature is always personal, always one man's vision of the world, one man's experience, and it can only be popular when men are ready to welcome the visions of others.

It takes more courage to dig deep in the dark corners of your own soul and the back alleys of your society than it does for a soldier to fight on the battlefield.