"Because I am mad about women I am mad about the hills," Said that wild old wicked man Who travels where God wills. . . . |
"Being Irish, he had an abiding sense of tragedy, which sustained him through temporary periods of joy.' |
"Time to put off the world and go somewhere And find my health again in the sea air," Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck, "And make my soul before my pate is bare." |
A line will take us hours maybe; Yet if it does not seem a moment's thought, our stitching and unstinting has been naught. |
A man who does not exist, A man who is but a dream. |
A mermaid found a swimming lad, Picked him for her own, Pressed her body to his body, Laughed; and plunging down Forgot in cruel happiness That even lovers drown. |
A pity beyond all telling is hid in the heart of love. |
A shudder in the loins engenders there The broken wall, the burning roof and tower And Agamemnon dead. |
A starlit or a moonlit dome disdains All that man is; All mere complexities, The fury and the mire of human veins. |
A woman can be proud and stiff When on love intent; But Love has pitched his mansion in The place of excrement; For nothing can be sole or whole That has not been rent. |
Accursed who brings to light of day the writings I have cast away. |
All changed, changed utterly: A terrible beauty is born. |
All empty souls tend to extreme opinion. |
All empty souls tend toward extreme opinions |
All shuffle there; all cough in ink; All wear the carpet with their shoes; All think what other people think; All know the man their neighbour knows, Lord, what would they say Did their Catullus walk that way? |