I know that I shall meet my fate somewhere among the clouds above; those that I fight I do not hate, those that I guard I do not love. – W.B. Yeats
Out of the quarrel with others we make rhetoric; out of the quarrel with ourselves we make poetry. – W.B. Yeats
The true poet is all the time a visionary and whether with friends or not, as much alone as a man on his death bed. – W.B. Yeats
We are happy when for everything inside us there is a corresponding something outside us. – W.B. Yeats
Psychic automatism in its pure state, by which one proposes to express — verbally, by means of the written word, or in any other manner — the actual functioning of thought. Dictated by the thought, in the absence of any control exercised by reason, exempt from any aesthetic or moral concern. – Andre Breton