For [W. B.] Yeats magic was not so much a kind of poetry as poetry a kind of magic, and the object of both alike was evocation of energies and knowledge from beyond normal consciousness.
Kathleen RaineAbout author
- Author's profession: Poet
- Nationality: british
- Born: June 14, 1908
- Died: July 6, 2003
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Ranger cradled my face in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe the tears from my eyes. "The ceremony is over. Can you make it back to the car?"I nodded. "I'm okay now. Am I red and blotchy from crying?"Yes," Ranger said, brushing a kiss across my forehead. "I love you anyway."There's all kinds of love," I said. Ranger took me by the hand and led me back to the SUV. "This is the kind that doesn't call for a ring. But a condom might come in handy."That's not love," I told him. "That's lust.
Janet Evanovich