"The fairies like me better than Mr. Yeats.."

Mr. Yeats himself has said a hundred times in that sad and splendid literary style which makes him the first of all poets now writing in English (I will not say of all English poets, for Irishmen are familiar with the practice of physical assault,) he has, I say, called up a hundred times the picture of the terrible freedom of the fairies, who typify the ultimate anarchy of art-

Ride on the crest of the dishevelled wave
And dance upon the mountains like a flame.

But, after all (it is a shocking thing to say), I doubt whether Mr. Yeats really knows his way about fairyland. He is not simple enough; he is not stupid enough. Though I say it who should not, in good sound human stupidity I would knock Mr. Yeats out any day. The fairies like me better than Mr. Yeats; they can take me in more. And I have my doubts whether this feeling of the free, wild spirits on the crest of hill or wave is really the central and simple spirit of folk-lore. I think the poets have made a mistake: because the world of the fairy-tales is a brighter and more varied world than ours, they have fancied it is less moral; really it is brighter and more varied because it is more moral.

-All Things Considered (1908)