What hurts the soul my soul adores.
Who can distinguish darkness from the soul
Weaving olden dances; mingling hands and mingling glances.
tradition gives the one thing many shapes.
rhetoric is will doing the work of imagination.
How far away the stars seem, and how far Is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart!
Surely some revelation is at hand.
The intellect of man is forced to choose Perfection of the life, or of the work.
A king is but a foolish labourer Who wastes his blood to be another’s dream.
BELOVED, gaze in thine own heart, The holy tree is growing there.
How but in custom and in ceremony are innocence and beauty born?
Man can embody the truth but he cannot know it.
I spit into the face of Time That has transfigured me.
The blessed spirits must be sought within the self which is common to all .
Where there is nothing, there is God.
What do we know but that we face one another in this place?
Be not inhospitable to strangers, lest they be angels in disguise.
Everything that's lovely is But a brief, dreamy kind of lovely.
And softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone.
I kiss you and kiss you, With arms around my own, Ah, how shall I miss you, When, dear, you have grown.
Sometimes my feet are tired and my hands are quiet, but there is no quiet in my heart.
Think where man's glory Most begins and ends And say my glory was That I had such friends.
My wretched dragon is perplexed.
Hearts are not to be had as a gift, hearts are to be earned.