Being Irish, he had an abiding sense of tragedy, which sustained him through temporary periods of joy.

Only the wasteful virtues earn the sun.

THOUGH you are in your shining days, Voices among the crowd And new friends busy with your praise, Be not unkind or proud, But think about old friends the most: Time's bitter flood will rise, Your beauty perish and be lost For all eyes but these eyes.

Some burn damp faggots, others may consume The entire combustible world in one small room.

I carry from my mother's womb a fanatic's heart.

I wonder anybody does anything at Oxford but dream and remember, the place is so beautiful. One almost expects the people to sing instead of speaking. It is all like an opera.

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.