The friends that have it I do wrong Whenever I remake a song Should know what issue is at stake, It is myself that I remake. - William Butler Yeats

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Thread softly because you tread on my dreams.

...All literature in some degree, exists to reveal a more powerful and passionate, a more divine world than ours.

At midnight on the Emperor’s pavement flit
Flames that no faggot feeds, nor steel has lit,
Nor storm disturbs, flames begotten of flame,
Where blood-begotten spirits come
And all complexities of fury leave,
Dying into a dance,
An agony of trance,
An agony of flame that cannot singe a sleeve.