Take, if you must, this little bag of dreams, Unloose the cord, and they will wrap you round.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSYet they that know all things but know That all this life can give us is, A child’s laughter, a woman’s kiss.
More William Butler Yeats Quotes
-
-
Ecstasy is from the contemplation of things vaster than the individual and imperfectly seen perhaps, by all those that still live.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
The innocent and the beautiful have no enemy but time.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
One man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
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 -
Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World! You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurled. Upon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ring The bell that calls us on; the sweet far thing.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Myself I must remake.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Happiness is neither virtue nor pleasure nor this thing nor that but simply growth, We are happy when we are growing.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
A statesman is an easy man, he tells his lies by rote. A journalist invents his lies, and rams them down your throat. So stay at home and drink your beer and let the neighbors vote.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
There are no strangers here; Only friends you haven’t yet met.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
All dreams of the soul End in a beautiful man’s or woman’s body.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
I’m looking for the face I had, before the world was made.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
An intellectual hate is the worst.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
All men live in suffering I know as few can know, Whether they take the upper road Or stay content on the low.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
From our birthday, until we die, Is but the winking of an eye.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
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.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS