The artists must be sacrificed to their art. Like the bees, they must put their lives into the sting they give.
A pity beyond all telling is hid in the heart of love.
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.
There's a difference between knowing God and knowing about God. Knowing about God is all of the stuff we've been told and all of the books we've read and all of our religious experiences and what others have told us and tried to convince us of. But knowing God is when we make conscious contact.
If the government can't get the black man justice, then it's time for the black man to get some justice for himself.
Freedom consists not in doing what we like, but in having the right to do what we ought.
Now, you can't tell me, we have the only God in the whole world. You can't tell me that nobody else has God.