When one gets quiet, then something wakes up inside one, something happy and quiet like the stars. - William Butler Yeats

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!

The host is rushing 'twixt day and night,
And where is there hope or deed as fair?
Caoilte tossing his burning hair,
And Niamh calling Away, come away.

Happiness is neither virtue nor pleasure nor this thing nor that but simply growth. We are happy when we are growing.