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We can only begin to live when we conceive life as Tragedy.
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How could passion run so deep Had I never thought That the crime of being born Blackens all our lot?
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We had fed the heart on fantasies, The heart's grown brutal from the fare, More substance in our enmities Than in our love
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My chair was nearest to the fire In every company That talked of love or politics, Ere Time transfigured me.
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People who lean on logic and philosophy and rational exposition end by starving the best part of the mind.
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But stories that live longest Are sung above the glass, And Parnell loved his country And Parnell loved his lass.
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Designs in connection with postage stamps and coinage may be described, I think, as the silent ambassadors on national taste.
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somewhere in sands of the desert A shape with lion body and the head of a man, A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
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Thought is a garment and the soul's a bride That cannot in that trash and tinsel hide: Hatred of God may bring the soul to God.
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Both nuns and mothers worship images, But those the candles light are not as those That animate a mother's reveries, But keep a marble or a bronze repose.
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There is only one romance the Soul's.
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Great Powers of falling wave and wind and windy fire, With your harmonious choir Encircle her I love and sing her into peace, That my old care may cease.
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Let the new faces play what tricks they will In the old rooms; night can outbalance day, Our shadows rove the garden gravel still, The living seem more shadowy than they.
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The unpurged images of day recede; The Emperor's drunken soldiery are abed; Night resonance recedes, night-walkers' song After great cathedral gong.
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When two close kindred meet What better than call a dance?.
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Hammer your thoughts into unity.
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Come swish around my pretty punk And keep me dancing still That I may stay a sober man Although I drink my fill.
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I have nothing more to give you than my heart. Spanish saying Hearts are not to be had as a gift hearts are to be earned.
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Being Irish, he had an abiding sense of tragedy, which sustained him through temporary periods of joy.
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The chief imagination of Christendom, Dante Alighieri, so utterly found himself That he has made that hollow face of his More plain to the mind's eye than any face But that of Christ.
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As man, as beast, as an ephemeral fly begets, Godhead begets Godhead, For things below are copies, the Great Smaragdine Tablet said. Yet all must copy copies, all increase their kind.
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The women that I picked spoke sweet and low And yet gave tongue. "Hound voices" were they all.
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From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have ranged / In rambling talk with an image of air: / Vague memories, nothing but memories.
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Gaze no more in the bitter glass The demons, with their subtle guile, Lift up before us when they pass, Or only gaze a little while.