May she be granted beauty and yet notBeauty to make a stranger's eye distraught,Or hers before a looking-glass, for such,Being made beautiful overmuch,Consider beauty a sufficient end,Lose natural kindness and maybeThe heart-revealing intimacyThat chooses right, and never find a friend.

William Butler Yeats

William Butler Yeats

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Time's bitter flood will rise,Your beauty perish and be lostFor all eyes but these eyes.

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Where beauty has no ebb, decay no flood, But joy is wisdom, time an endless song.

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

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How can we know the dancer from the dance?

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Why should we honour those that die upon the field of battle? A man may show as reckless a courage in entering into the abyss of himself.

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