And pluck till time and times are done the silver apples of the moon the golden apples of the sun.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSWe make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, but of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry.
More William Butler Yeats Quotes
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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.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
From our birthday, until we die, Is but the winking of an eye.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Sometimes my feet are tired and my hands are quiet, but there is no quiet in my heart.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
By logic and reason we die hourly; by imagination we live.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
I believe that our memories are part of one great memory, the memory of Nature herself.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Take, if you must, this little bag of dreams, Unloose the cord, and they will wrap you round.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Think where man’s glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Where there is nothing, there is God.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Choose your companions from the best; Who draws a bucket with the rest soon topples down the hill.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
One man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
The only business of the head in the world is to bow a ceaseless obeisance to the heart.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
I heard the old, old, men say ‘all that’s beautiful drifts away, like the waters.’
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
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 -
It is so many years before one can believe enough in what one feels even to know what the feeling is.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS