Love comes in at the eye.

The true faith discovered was When painted panel, statuary, Glass-mosaic, window-glass, Amended what was told awry By some peasant gospeler.

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.

Locke sank into a swoon; The Garden died; God took the spinning-jenny Out of his side.

The fascination of what's difficult Has dried the sap out of my veins, and rent Spontaneous joy and natural content Out of my heart.

I knew a phoenix in my youth, so let them have their day.

Is it not certain that the Creator yawns in earthquake and thunder and other popular displays, but toils in rounding the delicate spiral of a shell? -Yeats, The Trembling of the Veil