The Land of Faery, Where nobody gets old and godly and grave, Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise, Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue. - William Butler Yeats

The years like great black oxen tread the world,
And God the herdsman goads them on behind,
And I am broken by their passing feet.

It takes more courage to examine the dark corners of your own soul than it does for a soldier to fight on a battlefield

My Soul. Such fullness in that quarter overflows
And falls into the basin of the mind
That man is stricken deaf and dumb and blind,
For intellect no longer knows
Is from the Ought, or knower from the Known —
That is to say, ascends to Heaven;
Only the dead can be forgiven;
But when I think of that my tongue's a stone.