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 YEATSThe 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.
More William Butler Yeats Quotes
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Hearts are not had as a gift, But hearts are earned.
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 -
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 -
What man does not understand, he fears; and what he fears, he tends to destroy.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
It is so many years before one can believe enough in what one feels even to know what the feeling is.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
In dreams begin responsibilitiy.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Though leaves are many, the root is one.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Mysticism has been in the past and probably ever will be one of the great powers of the world and it is bad scholarship to pretend the contrary.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Love is created and preserved by intellectual analysis, for we love only that which is unique, and it belongs to contemplation, not to action, for we would not change that which we love.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Wine enters through the mouth, Love, the eyes. I raise the glass to my mouth, I look at you, I sigh.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
The only business of the head in the world is to bow a ceaseless obeisance to the heart.
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 -
only an aching heart Conceives a changeless work of art.
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






