The innocent and the beautiful have no enemy but time.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSThe innocent and the beautiful have no enemy but time.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSIt takes more courage to dig deep in the dark corners of your own soul and the back alleys of your society than it does for a soldier to fight on the battlefield.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSWine enters through the mouth, Love, the eyes. I raise the glass to my mouth, I look at you, I sigh.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSAll 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 YEATSLife is a long preparation for something that never happens.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSEverything exists, everything is true and the earth is just a bit of dust beneath our feet.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSBut I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSLiterature 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 YEATSThe worst thing about some men is that when they are not drunk they are sober.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSAll empty souls tend toward extreme opinions.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSI broke my heart in two So hard I struck. What matter? for I know That out of rock, Out of a desolate source, Love leaps upon its course.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSAll men live in suffering I know as few can know, Whether they take the upper road Or stay content on the low.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSThere midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSOne 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 YEATSWhen two close kindred meet, What better than call a dance?
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSI believe that our memories are part of one great memory, the memory of Nature herself.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS