During those years in Stamps, I met and fell in love with William Shakespeare. He was my first white love.... it was Shakespeare w...ho said, "When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes." It was a state of mind with which I found myself most familiar. I pacified myself about his whiteness by saying that after all he had been dead so long it couldn't matter to anyone any more.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
This is the Night Mail crossing the Border, Bringing the cheque and the postal order,... Letters for the rich, letters for the poor, The shop at the corner, the girl next door.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing... Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Men have come to speak of the revelation as somewhat long ago given and done, as if God were dead. The injury to faith throttles t...he preacher; and the goodliest of institutions becomes an uncertain and inarticulate voice.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the ...treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. I...t was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
If, as I can't help suspecting, the dead also feel the pains of separation (and this may be one of their purgatorial sufferings), ...then for both lovers, and for all pairs of lovers without exception, bereavement is a universal and integral part of our experience of love.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
...here he is, fully alive, and it is hard to picture him fully dead. Death is thirty-three hours away and here we are talking abo...ut the brain size of birds and bloodhounds and hunting in the woods. You can only attend to death for so long before the life force sucks you right in again.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »