Out of the quarrel with others we make rhetoric; out of the quarrel with ourselves we make poetry. (W.B. Yeats)
Here lies that which is inside no more, that which burns my mind and must be expelled. Here lies the greatest of all inventions. Here lies words.
Showing posts with label The Ghosts of Winters Past. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Ghosts of Winters Past. Show all posts