Unwearied still, lover by lover, They paddle in the cold Companionable streams or climb the air; Their hearts have not grown old. - William Butler Yeats

‘Fair and foul are near of kin,
And fair needs foul,’ I cried.
‘My friends are gone, but that’s a truth
Nor grave nor bed denied.'

If we could love and hate with as good heart as the faeries do, we might grow to be long-lived like them. But until that day their untiring joys and sorrows must ever be one-half of their fascination. Love with them never grows weary, nor can the circles of the stars tire out their dancing feet.

تمضي الأعوام كالثيران الهائلة السوداء تدوس العالم...الرب راعيها ينخسها من الخلف...و أنا تحطمني الحوافر الماضية