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 YEATSRose 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.
More William Butler Yeats Quotes
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Myself I must remake.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
From our birthday, until we die, Is but the winking of an eye.
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.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
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.
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In dreams begin responsibilitiy.
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 -
It is love that I am seeking for, But of a beautiful, unheard-of kind That is not in the world.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Life is a long preparation for something that never happens.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Everything exists, everything is true and the earth is just a bit of dust beneath our feet.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Everything that’s lovely is But a brief, dreamy kind of delight.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Man is in love and loves what vanishes, What more is there to say?
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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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If what I say resonates with you, it’s merely because we’re branches of the same tree.
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Do not wait to strike till the iron is hot; but make it hot by striking.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Neither Christ nor Buddha nor Socrates wrote a book, for to do so is to exchange life for a logical process.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS