Everything in nature is resurrection.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSI believe that our memories are part of one great memory, the memory of Nature herself.
More William Butler Yeats Quotes
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Love is created and preserved by intellectual analysis, for we love only that which is unique, and it belongs to contemplation, not to action, for we would not change that which we love.
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It 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.
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The innocent and the beautiful have no enemy but time.
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Wine enters through the mouth, Love, the eyes. I raise the glass to my mouth, I look at you, I sigh.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
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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By logic and reason we die hourly; by imagination we live.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
I’m looking for the face I had, before the world was made.
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.
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It seems to me that love, if it is fine, is essentially a discipline.
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From our birthday, until we die, Is but the winking of an eye.
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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.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Yet they that know all things but know That all this life can give us is, A child’s laughter, a woman’s kiss.
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Everything that’s lovely is But a brief, dreamy kind of delight.
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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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The tragedy of sexual intercourse is the perpetual virginity of the soul.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS