I’ve changed my ways a little, I cannot nowRun with you in the evenings along the shore,Except in a kind of dream, and you, if you dream a moment,You see me there.
The tides are in our veins, we still mirror the stars, life is your child, but there is in meOlder and harder than life and more impartial, the eye that watched before there was an ocean.
We have to live like people in a web of knives, we mustn’t reach out our hands or we get them gashed.
… He is strong and pain is worse to the strong, incapacity is worse.
The heads of strong old age are beautiful / Beyond all grace of youth
The greatest beauty is organic wholeness, the wholeness of life and things, the divine beauty of the universe.
Humanity is the start of the race; I say Humanity is the mould to break away from, the crust to break through, the coal to break into fire, The atom to be split.
In pleasant peace and security How suddenly the soul in a man begins to die He shall look up above the stalled oxen Envying the cruel falcon, And dig under the straw for a stone To bruise himself on.
Before there was any water there were tides of fire, both our tones flow from the older fountain.
To the end of this age. Oh, a thousand yearsWill Hardly leach,” he thought, “this dust of that fire.
Cruelty is a part of nature, at least of human nature, but it is the one thing that seems unnatural to us.
Imagination, the traitor of the mind, has taken my solitude and slain it.