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?

But Love has pitched his mansion in the place of excrement. For nothing can be sole or whole that has not been rent.

Englishmen are babes in philosophy and so prefer faction-fighting to the labour of its unfamiliar thought.

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

How but in custom and in ceremony are innocence and beauty born?

rhetoric is will doing the work of imagination.

I gave what other women gave That stepped out of their clothes But when this soul, its body off Naked to naked goes, He it has found shall find therein What none other knows.