A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.

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Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: William Butler Yeats (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.