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We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, but of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry.
---Yeats, William Butler
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How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
---William Butler Yeats
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speak silence with thy glimmering eyes, And wash the dusk with silver.
---William Blake