We are all here on earth to help others; what on earth the others are ...

We are all here on earth to help others; what on earth the others are here for I don't know.

We would rather be ruined than changed. We would rather die in our ...

We would rather be ruined than changed. We would rather die in our dread than climb the cross of the moment and let our illusions die.

All pity is self-pity.

All I have is a voice.

Sincerity is technique.

Hunger allows no choice.

Love each other or perish.

Now is the age of anxiety.

Art is born of humiliation.

Poetry makes nothing happen.

Drama is based on the Mistake.

Let all your thinks be thanks.

We must love one another or die

To make one, there must be two.

No hero is mortal till he dies.

Water is the soul of the Earth.

Life is a picnic on a precipice.

To be free is often to be lonely.

Mad Ireland hurt you into poetry.

Dance, dance, dance till you drop.

To ask the hard question is simple.

No being can make another one happy.

Composing mortals with immortal fire.

a culture is no better than its woods

Learn from your dreams what you lack.

Adjectives are the potbelly of poetry.

One can only blaspheme if one believes.

Time will say nothing but I told you so.

We are all here on earth to help others.

We were put on this earth to make things.

Weep for the lives your wishes never led.

In life the loser's score is always zero.

All the literati keep An imaginary friend.

Yet no one hears his own remarks as prose.

Words are for those with promises to keep.

Criticism should be a casual conversation.

For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?

A shilling life will give you all the facts.

I don't get acting jobs because of my looks.

Look if you like, but you will have to leap.

Doom is dark and deeper than any sea-dingle.

Those to whom evil is doneDo evil in return.

I smell blood and an era of prominent madmen.

Let me see what I wrote so I know what I think

Swans in the winter air A white perfection have

Goodness is easier to recognize than to define.

History marched to the drums of a clear idea...

All that we are not stares back at what we are.

Words have no word for words that are not true.

What living occasion can, Be just to the absent?

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