I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honeybee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core. 

― William Butler Yeats

My body was like a harp and her words and gestures
were like fingers running upon the wires.

 ― James Joyce, Araby

Of the things which nourish the imagination,
humour is one of the most needful,
and it is dangerous to limit or destroy it.

 ―  John Millington Synge

I think of the bog as a feminine goddess-ridden ground,
rather like the territory of Ireland itself.

 ―  Seamus Heaney