“Now days are dragon-ridden, the nightmare Rides upon sleep: a drunken soldiery Can leave the mother, murdered at her door,To crawl in her own blood, and go scott-free;The night can sweat with terror as beforeWe pieced our thoughts into philosophy, And planned to bring the world under rule, Who are but weasels fighting in a hole.”

W. B. Yeats

W. B. Yeats - “Now days are dragon-ridden, the nightmare...” 1

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