"When you are old and grey and full of sleep, and nodding by the fire, take down this book and slowly read, and dream of the soft look your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep."

there's something about Yeats that takes my breath away - it always has done, right from the very first time I read one of his poems. I tend to forget and think "it can't be that good" and then I read some again and there it is - breath taken away again.

It also happens when my children make something beautiful - like this.