Jonathan Swift made a soul for the gentlemen of this city by hating his neighbor as himself.
W.B. Yeats
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Labour is blossoming or dancing where
The body is not bruised to pleasure soul.
- W.B. Yeats -
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but one loses as one grows older something of the lightness of ones dreams one begins to take life up in both hands and to care more for the fruit than the flower and that is no great loss perhaps.
- W.B. Yeats -