It seems to me that love, if it is fine, is essentially a discipline.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSHearts are not had as a gift, But hearts are earned.
More William Butler Yeats Quotes
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Every conquering temptation represents a new fund of moral energy. Every trial endured and weathered in the right spirit makes a soul nobler and stronger than it was before.
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I cast my heart into my rhymes, That you, in the dim coming times, May know how my heart went with them After the red-rose-bordered hem.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Think where man’s glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends.
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All men live in suffering I know as few can know, Whether they take the upper road Or stay content on the low.
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Literature is always personal, always one man’s vision of the world, one man’s experience, and it can only be popular when men are ready to welcome the visions of others.
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But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Though leaves are many, the root is one; Through all the lying days of my youth I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun Now I may wither into the truth.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
There is another world, but it is in this one.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
I have observed dreams and visions very carefully, and am now certain that the imagination has some way of lighting on the truth that the reason has not, and that its commandments, delivered when the body is still and the reason silent, are the most binding we can ever know.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Take, if you must, this little bag of dreams, Unloose the cord, and they will wrap you round.
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An intellectual hate is the worst.
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And I will find some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Happiness is neither virtue nor pleasure nor this thing nor that but simply growth, We are happy when we are growing.
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Beloved, let your eyes half close, and your heart beat Over my heart, and your hair fall over my breast, Drowning love’s lonely hour in deep twilight of rest.
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And wisdom is a butterfly And not a gloomy bird of prey.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS