-An aged man is but a paltry thing, a tattered coat upon a stick
-I balanced all, brought all to mind, the years to come seemed waste of breath,
a waste of breath the years behind, in balance with this life, this death.
-I carry from my mother's womb a fanatic's heart.
-A pity beyond all telling is hid in the heart of love.
-The only business of the head in the world is to bow a ceaseless obeisance to the heart.
-Happiness is neither virtue nor pleasure nor this thing nor that but simply growth,
we are happy when we are growing.
-The intellect of man is forced to choose perfection of the life,
or of the work, and if it take the second must refuse a heavenly mansion,
raging in the dark.
Yeats's self-penned Epitaph
a cold eye
On life, on death,
Horseman, pass by!