If the rose puzzled its mind over the question how it grew, it would not have been the miracle that it is. — Jack Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Always when I see a man fond of praise I always think it is because he is an affectionate man craving for affection — Jack Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
If the rose puzzled its mind over the question how it grew, it would not have been the miracle that it is. — Jack Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Never trust a sentimentalist. They are all alike, pretenders to virtue, at heart selfish frauds and sensualists. — Jack Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
The Americans never walk. In winter too cold and in summer too hot. — Jack Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
