"When You Are Old"

WHEN you are old and grey and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

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;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

~W.B. Yeats

 "On ne lit pas, ni écrit de la poésie, parce que c'est joli. On lit et écrit de la poésie car on fait partie de l'humanité. Et l'humanité est faite de passion. La médecine, le droit, le commerce sont nécessaires pour assurer la vie, mais la poésie, la beauté, la romance, l'amour, c'est pour ça qu'on vit."

John Keating, Le cercle des poètes disparus.

 "One cannot help but be in awe when one contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries to comprehend only a little of this mystery every day." – Albert Einstein

 Scotland : my own secret enchanted world.

 

"De temps en temps un énergumène se passionne pour la peinture et la poésie "

 Voilà, tout est dit.