The great Gaels of Ireland Are the men that God made mad, For all their wars are merry, And all their songs are sad.

I tell you naught for your comfort, Yea, naught for your desire, Save that the sky grows darker yet And the sea rises higher.

Our chiefs said 'Done,' and I did not deem it; Our seers said 'Peace,' and it was not peace; Earth will grow worse till men redeem it, And wars more evil, ere …

Prince, Bayard would have smashed his sword To see the sort of knights you dub-- Is that the last of them--O Lord Will someone take me to a pub?

I grieve and dare not show my discontent, I love and yet am forced to seem to hate, I do, yet dare not say I ever meant, I seem stark mute but inwardly do prat…

Moscow... how many strains are fusing in that one sound, for Russian hearts! what store of riches it imparts!

I am interested in madness. I believe it is the biggest thing in the human race, and the most constant. How do you take away from a man his madness without als…