All empty souls tend toward extreme opinions.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSSometimes my feet are tired and my hands are quiet, but there is no quiet in my heart.
More William Butler Yeats Quotes
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Hearts are not had as a gift, But hearts are earned.
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All that I have said and done, Now that I am old and ill, Turns into a question till I lie awake night after night And never get the answers right.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
One should say before sleeping: I have lived many lives. I have been a slave and a prince. Many a beloved has sat upon my knee and I have sat upon the knees of many a beloved. Everything that has been shall be again.
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There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
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And pluck till time and times are done the silver apples of the moon the golden apples of the sun.
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Everything in nature is resurrection.
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We taste and feel and see the truth. We do not reason ourselves into it.
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I believe that our memories are part of one great memory, the memory of Nature herself.
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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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The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.
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There are no strangers here; Only friends you haven’t yet met.
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The innocent and the beautiful have no enemy but time.
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Myself I must remake.
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only an aching heart Conceives a changeless work of art.
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I heard the old, old, men say ‘all that’s beautiful drifts away, like the waters.’
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Sometimes my feet are tired and my hands are quiet, but there is no quiet in my heart.
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Take, if you must, this little bag of dreams, Unloose the cord, and they will wrap you round.
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The only business of the head in the world is to bow a ceaseless obeisance to the heart.
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Life is a long preparation for something that never happens.
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Joy is of the will which labours, which overcomes obstacles, which knows triumph.
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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.
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It seems to me that true love is a discipline.
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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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An intellectual hate is the worst.
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Man is in love and loves what vanishes, What more is there to say?
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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