When steam first began to pump and wheels go round at so many revolutions per minute, what are called business habits were intended to make the life of man run in harmony with the steam engine, and his movement rival the train in punctuality.
About George William Russell
George William Russell (10 April 1867 – 17 July 1935), who wrote with the pseudonym AE (often written AE or A.E.), was an Irish writer, editor, critic, poet, painter and Irish nationalist. He was also a writer on mysticism, and a central figure in the group of devotees of theosophy which met in Dublin for many years.
More quotes from George William Russell
After the spiritual powers, there is no thing in the world more unconquerable than the spirit of nationality. The spirit of nationality in Ireland will persist even though the mightiest of material powers be its neighbor.
Irish writer, editor, critic, poet, and artistic painter (1867-1935)
Any relations in a social order will endure, if there is infused into them some of that spirit of human sympathy which qualifies life for immortality.
Irish writer, editor, critic, poet, and artistic painter (1867-1935)
We may fight against what is wrong, but if we allow ourselves to hate, that is to insure our spiritual defeat and our likeness to what we hate.
Irish writer, editor, critic, poet, and artistic painter (1867-1935)
When steam first began to pump and wheels go round at so many revolutions per minute, what are called business habits were intended to make the life of man run in harmony with the steam engine, and his movement rival the train in punctuality.
Irish writer, editor, critic, poet, and artistic painter (1867-1935)
You can’t evoke great spirits and eat plums at the same time.
Irish writer, editor, critic, poet, and artistic painter (1867-1935)
Forgive me, Spirit of my spirit, for this, that I have found it easier to read the mystery told in tears and understood Thee better in sorrow than in joy.
Irish writer, editor, critic, poet, and artistic painter (1867-1935)
Twilight, a timid, fawn, went glimmering by, and Night, the dark-blue hunter, followed fast.
Irish writer, editor, critic, poet, and artistic painter (1867-1935)
Our hearts were drunk with a beauty Our eyes could never see.
Irish writer, editor, critic, poet, and artistic painter (1867-1935)
Ah, to think how thin the veil that lies Between the pain of hell and Paradise.
Irish writer, editor, critic, poet, and artistic painter (1867-1935)
Seek on earth what you have found in heaven.
Irish writer, editor, critic, poet, and artistic painter (1867-1935)