Why now?

My father asks which roads led to Yeats. "The Gentleman of Galway," he calls Yeats.

It came about through reading The New Yorker and The Economist.

Every so often I get curious about how people beyond the west coast and people beyond the USA view the world.. I will pick up a copy of The Economist, which is predisposed favorably towards captains of industry, and a copy of The New Yorker, where they are not. Afterwards, enlightened depression usually makes me feel that I don't need to do that again for a while.

I read James Surowiecke in the New Yorker, who wrote:

"But for now we are stuck in a Yeatsian market: the best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity. Let's hope the center can hold."

I read that, and thought those words applicable to a lot more than economic markets just now. This led to a reacquaintance with the poem, which led to its posting.