People who lean on logic and philosophy and rational exposition end by starving the best part of the mind.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSPeople who lean on logic and philosophy and rational exposition end by starving the best part of the mind.
More William Butler Yeats Quotes
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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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All dreams of the soul End in a beautiful man’s or woman’s body.
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Hearts are not had as a gift, But hearts are earned.
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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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We taste and feel and see the truth. We do not reason ourselves into it.
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Joy is of the will which labours, which overcomes obstacles, which knows triumph.
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And a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone.
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Life is a long preparation for something that never happens.
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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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Hammer your thoughts into unity.
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What can be explained is not poetry.
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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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Any fool can fight a winning battle, but it needs character to fight a losing one, and that should inspire us; which reminds me that I dreamed the other night that I was being hanged, but was the life and soul of the party.
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It seems to me that love, if it is fine, is essentially a discipline.
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God guard me from those thoughts men think In the mind alone.
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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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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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And pluck till time and times are done the silver apples of the moon the golden apples of the sun.
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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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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.
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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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But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
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only an aching heart Conceives a changeless work of art.
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Things fall apart; the center cannot hold.
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If suffering brings wisdom, I would wish to be less wise.
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When two close kindred meet, What better than call a dance?
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS