Life moves out of a red flare of dreams Into a common light of common hours, Until old age brings the red flare again.

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

Cast your mind on other days that we in coming days may be still the indomitable Irishry.

Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire.

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

There is only one romance the Soul's.

An intellectual hatred is the worst, So let her think opinions are accursed. Have I not seen the loveliest woman born Out of the mouth of Plenty's horn, Because of her opinionated mind Barter that horn and every good By quiet natures understood For an old bellows full of angry wind?