Morgan Llywelyn Quotes

Waiting is worse than knowing. Grief rends the heart cleanly, that it may begin to heal; waiting shreds the spirit.

Annals of the Four Masters.

We never fully appreciate today until tomorrow.

If you would have peace, genuine peace, you must accept all the aspects of your personality and learn to be comfortable with them.

We have freedom of the press; I think it's guaranteed in the Constitution or something." The

No'm he aint ill. Not unless laziness is a sickness. If it is, I'd say he's close to dying tomorrow.

I'm only the instrument through which one particular art is expressed. Poetry flows through me but it originates in the wellspring of creation that is the source of us all. When you strike out at someone else's achievement you are attacking your own share of a great gift.

Feet, she thought. Sea legs. When you pass the last spit of land and commit to the ocean, you are taking a step into the infinite and might set your foot down anywhere.

There was a rhythm to the canter. Up, forward, down; up, forward, down. It soon became pleasant. The broad warm rump felt good beneath her. The pounding was diminished, cushioned by the horse's muscles and the springiness of his hindquarter joints ... The ridden horse was a marvel, diminishing space.

Dreams can be relentless tyrants.

Although Erc was bitterly disappointed, there was another route to prestige. He possessed gifts of the mind sufficient to gain admittance to the order of Druids, the intellectual class of Celtic society. Members of the order were not practitioners of a specific religion, nor were they priests in the Christian sense of the word. The Greeks were more nearly correct by describing Druids as poet-philosophers.

Concealed within the stones are frozen fires. Borne on vast waves of polychrome gas that attracted, discarded, formed, and reformed patterns of infinite complexity, the living sparks had taken their allotted places. They were burning before the beginning. They will burn after the end. Their fire is impervious to time. Time is a human concept. Creation is on a different scale. Every spark was a syllable spoken into silence, a miniscule portion of the great Word that became a roar of limitless power and exploded to create a universe. From chaos, cosmos.

Teaching meant for the hands enters most easily through the eyes.

Men who have died in battle are rarely good to look upon. No matter how splendid their appearance at the apex of heroism, when the soul has fled it takes all grace and beauty with it. Bowels empty, mouths gape, bellies swell, dead eyes gleam fish-belly white. Nothing visible remains of glory. In the tents of death all men belong to the same tribe.

You must bind up any wounds you give the earth and you must feed her to replace what you take from her. Every gift she gives, every tree, every stalk of grain, costs her. Only if you repay your debts will she continue to provide.

I'm Irish! ... When I feel well I feel better than anyone, when I am in pain I yell at the top of my lungs, and when I am dead I shall be deader than anybody.

The pain we bring to others we cannot escape ourselves.

There is no disgrace in peace. There can never be dishonor in peace.

Bodies wear out to remind us they are temporary, and force us to spend more thought on our spirits

You have no enemy until you make one.

The achievements and discoveries of a great but dying society can bring light to a young and growing one.

Wine could become a place rather than a beverage ...

The Romans did not like kings. We needed them, however. Over many generations we had evolved the pattern of living that best suited Celtic natures. Kings led noble warriors in battle that defined tribal territory and gave men a shape for their pride. Less aggressive common people farmed the land and did the labor of the tribe. Druids were responsible for the intangible essentials upon which all else depended. Man and Earth and Otherworld were thus held in balance----until the coming of Caesar, who wanted to destroy our warriors and our druids so he could make the rest of us his slaves.

The harmony that holds the stars on their courses and the flesh on our bones resonates through all creation. Every sound contains its echo. Before there was humankind, or even forest, there was sound. Sound spread from the source in great circles like those formed when a stone is dropped in a pool.
We follow waves of sound from life to life. A dying man's ears will hear long after his eyes are blind. He hears the sound that leads him to his next life as the Source of All being plucks the harp of creation.

There is a cruelty that lurks in some men's souls which is only released when they have other men in their power.

In the long run, the fall of one civilization is very much like the fall of another. Only the land remains.