God guard me from those thoughts men think In the mind alone. - William Butler Yeats

The Irishman sustains himself during brief periods of joy by the knowledge that tragedy is just around the corner.

When all is said and done, how do we not know but that our own unreason may be better than another’s truth? for it has been warmed on our hearths and in our souls, and is ready for the wild bees of truth to hive in it, and make their sweet honey. Come into the world again, wild bees, wild bees!

For the winds that awakened the stars are blowing through my blood.