One man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSIn dreams begin responsibilitiy.
More William Butler Yeats Quotes
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We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, but of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry.
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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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Words are always getting conventionalized to some secondary meaning. It is one of the works of poetry to take the truants in custody and bring them back to their right senses.
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The tragedy of sexual intercourse is the perpetual virginity of the soul.
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Everything exists, everything is true and the earth is just a bit of dust beneath our feet.
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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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I heard the old, old, men say ‘all that’s beautiful drifts away, like the waters.’
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The Irishman sustains himself during brief periods of joy by the knowledge that tragedy is just around the corner.
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Choose your companions from the best; Who draws a bucket with the rest soon topples down the hill.
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Talent perceives differences; genius, unity.
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The winds that awakened the stars Are blowing through my blood.
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Hearts are not had as a gift, But hearts are earned.
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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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Neither Christ nor Buddha nor Socrates wrote a book, for to do so is to exchange life for a logical process.
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Where there is nothing, there is God.
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If what I say resonates with you, it’s merely because we’re branches of the same tree.
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In dreams begins responsibility.
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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.
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Come Fairies, take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame!
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When two close kindred meet, What better than call a dance?
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Ecstasy is from the contemplation of things vaster than the individual and imperfectly seen perhaps, by all those that still live.
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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.
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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.
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Think like a wise man but communicate in the language of the people.
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It is love that I am seeking for, But of a beautiful, unheard-of kind That is not in the world.
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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.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS