The intellect of man is forced to choose perfection of the life, or of the work.
Irish poet
The intellect of man is forced to choose perfection of the life, or of the work.
Irish poet
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"I shall write for my own people, whether in love or hate of them matters little, probably I shall not know which it is."
Controversial"I have been in love with a ghost for many years."
Strange & Unusual"I have always been interested in what lies beyond the veil of the material world."
Strange & Unusual"Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere. The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction; w…"
Controversial"An argument with a poet is a conversation with a madman."
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