BELOVED, gaze in thine own heart, The holy tree is growing there.
Wine comes in at the mouth And love comes in at the eye; That's all we shall know for truth Before we grow old and die.
What's memory but the ash That chokes our fires that have begun to sink?
Sometimes my feet are tired and my hands are quiet, but there is no quiet in my heart.
Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire.
The Irishman sustains himself during brief periods of joy by the knowledge that tragedy is just around the corner.