I think you can leave the arts, superior or inferior, to the conscience of mankind.

People who lean on logic and philosophy and rational exposition end by starving the best part of the mind.

The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.

There are no strangers here; Only friends you haven't yet met.

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.

Out of Ireland have we come, great hatred, little room, maimed us at the start. I carry from my mother's womb a fanatic heart.