Best 31 quotes of Orna Ross on MyQuotes

A great poet can give nobler and more precious gifts to his country than the greatest philanthropist or politician.

All indies self-publish but not all self-publishers are indie.

All our lives, we long, we long, thinking it is the moon we long for. So how, when we meet it in the shape of a most fair woman, can we do less than leave all others for her?” WB Yeats

He has had her today but he has not had her. No man ever shall.

He has been preparing his life and his poetry for just such a woman, just such intermingling of beauty and sorrow and mystery. But a woman like her will not settle into the role of helpmeet or muse; she is too adventurous, too vital, too fond of sensation. She will want to be, an ally. An equal. What can he, a poor student of poetry, offer her? Only his words.

He loves the most beautiful woman in the world. And like Sir Lancelot, he shall love her exceedingly well.

How much easier it is to be wise for another than for ourselves.

How you do money is how you do life.

If you can't change your mind, you can't change anything.

Imagination is not an icing on the cake of life but the oven in which it is baked.

In ancient Ireland the soul had but to stretch out its arms to fill them with beauty. Now all manner of ugliness besets the world.

It is inner duty, not outer achievement, that wins peace.

It's good to have an end in mind but in the end what counts is how you travel.

It takes a great reader to make a great book.

It takes a village to raise a child, they say, and it takes a community to raise a genius, no matter how singular the individual.

Marriage, after all, is only a little detail in life.

Mr. Yeats makes great poetry out of what he calls his unhappiness about me, and he is happy in that. - Maud Gonne

Never be a good prisoner. Not unless you want to collude in your own imprisonment.

Only in dreams and death can perfection be had. Life is broken and weary.

That thicket gave me my first thought of what a long poem should be. Its unpeopled, life-filled stillness, its silence held by the crash of breaking waves below. I thought of a poem as a place into which one could wander, away from the cares of life. I realized its characters should be as unreal, and as utterly real, as the shadows that people this thicket.

The eyes of the creative spirit can see in all directions.

They were magnificent all right, with the magnificence that can only grow in the ground of great foolishness.

We who have seen the truth will reshape the world, and Ireland shall be our entrance to this world beyond words.

When life disappoints, one must apply one’s will, not crumple.

When looked at from the woman’s side of the bed-sheet, most tales take a turning.

When one is busy, as she was in Donegal, life whistles by. One struggles to keep up with oneself. It is vital, when one slows down, to be conscious of small things, small moments. To take pains.

Where there’s life, there’s learning, and the truth is always calling us out of our pride. If we don’t harken, it will call louder, and throw a situation at us. A pebble at first. If we still don’t listen, we’ll get a stone. Then a rock. Then a great crashing boulder. We must learn, or die.

Wherever there is fear, there is creative treasure. Something important lies buried.

Women come more easily to that wisdom which ancient peoples, and all wild peoples even now, think the only wisdom.

You can have anything you want so long as you realise that you can't have everything you want.

You can trust in nothing. Nothing is always there, holding all.