Evil comes to all us men of imagination wearing as its mask all the virtues. |
Farewell -- farewell, For I am weary of the weight of time. |
For men improve with the years; And yet, and yet, Is this my dream, or the truth? |
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have s |
Half close your eyelids, loosen your hair, And dream about the great and their pride; They have spoken against you everywhere, But weigh this song with the great and their pride; I made it out of a mouthful of air, Their children's children shall say they have lied. |
Hands, do what you're bid; Bring the balloon of the mind That bellies and drags in the wind Into its narrow shed. |
Happiness is neither virtue nor pleasure nor this thing nor that but simply growth. We are happy when we are growing. |
he had an abiding sense of tragedy, which sustained him through temporary periods of joy.' |
He knows death to the bone -- Man has created death. |
Hearts are not had as a gift, But hearts are earned... |
Hell is the place of those who have denied; They find there what they planted and what dug, A Lake of Spaces, and a Wood of Nothing, And wander there and drift, and never cease Wailing for substance. |
How can we know the dancer from the dance? |
How far away the stars seem, and how far is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart. |
Hurrah for revolution and more cannon-shot! A beggar upon horseback lashes a beggar on foot, Hurrah for revolution and cannon come again! The beggars have changed places but the lash goes on. |
I agree about Shaw - he is haunted by the mystery he flouts. He is an atheist who trembles in the haunted corridor. |