I've come to give you your gift back, Mordeth," Cauthon whispered. "I consider our debt paid in full.
The light of lights looks always on the motive, not the deed, the shadow of shadows on the deed alone.
When You Are Old" WHEN you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; 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; And bending down beside the glowing bars, Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled And paced upon the mountains overhead And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
What man does not understand, he fears; and what he fears, he tends to destroy.
A daughter of a King of Ireland, heard A voice singing on a May Eve like this, And followed half awake and half asleep, Until she came into the Land of Faery, Where nobody gets old and godly and grave, Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise, Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue. And she is still there, busied with a dance Deep in the dewy shadow of a wood, Or where stars walk upon a mountain-top.
There are no strangers here; Only friends you haven't yet met.
The Irishman sustains himself during brief periods of joy by the knowledge that tragedy is just around the corner.
I discovered that the study of past philosophers is of little use unless our own reality enters into it. Our reality alone allows the thinker's questions to become comprehensible.
I don't believe in asking people to spend $15 on something they've never heard before. That's just unreasonable.
If you decide to do comedy that involves risk, risk means risk, and you can't complain of flesh wounds if you sit down at the table to play.
. . . on the whole we have just as much orange left and it tastes far better, if we give a good deal of it away.