Wine enters through the mouth, Love, the eyes. I raise the glass to my mouth, I look at you, I sigh.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSOnly that which does not teach, which does not cry out, which does not condescend, which does not explain, is irresistible.
More William Butler Yeats Quotes
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The mystical life is the centre of all that I do and all that I think and all that I write. I have always considered myself a voice of what I believe to be a greater renaissance – the revolt of the soul against the intellect.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
And a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone.
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 -
And pluck till time and times are done the silver apples of the moon the golden apples of the sun.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
It is love that I am seeking for, But of a beautiful, unheard-of kind That is not in the world.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
We taste and feel and see the truth. We do not reason ourselves into it.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
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 -
And wisdom is a butterfly And not a gloomy bird of prey.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Yet they that know all things but know That all this life can give us is, A child’s laughter, a woman’s kiss.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
I heard the old, old, men say ‘all that’s beautiful drifts away, like the waters.’
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 -
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 -
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
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.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Myself I must remake.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS






