I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping...I hear it in the deep heart's core.

How can we know the dancer from the dance?

Man can embody truth but he cannot know it.

The mystical life is the centre of all that I do and all that I think and all that I write. . . . I have always considered myself a voice of what I believe to be a greater renaissance - the revolt of the soul against the intellect.

Nor dread nor hope attend a dying animal; a man awaits his end dreading and hoping all.

A daughter of a King of Ireland, heard A voice singing on a May Eve like this, And followed half awake and half asleep, Until she came into the Land of Faery, Where nobody gets old and godly and grave, Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise, Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue. And she is still there, busied with a dance Deep in the dewy shadow of a wood, Or where stars walk upon a mountain-top.

And God stands winding His lonely horn, And time and the world are ever in flight.