Things fall apart; the center cannot hold.

Poet and sculptor, do the work, / Nor let the modish painter shirk

Things said or done long years ago Or things I did not do or say But thought that I might say or do, Weigh me down, and not a day But something is recalled, My conscience or my vanity appalled.

From our birthday, until we die, Is but the winking of an eye.

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.

...How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face... "When You Are Old And Gray

People who lean on logic and philosophy and rational exposition end by starving the best part of the mind.