We have lit upon the gentle, sensitive mind
And lost the old nonchalance of the hand;
Whether we have chosen chisel, pen or brush,
We are but critics, or but half create,
Timid, entangled, empty and abashed,
Lacking the countenance of our friends.

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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.