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I cast my heart into my rhymes, That you, in the dim coming times, May know how my heart went with them After the red-rose-bordered hem.

William Butler Yeats

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All dreams of the soul End in a beautiful man’s or woman’s body.
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The winds that awakened the stars Are blowing through my blood.
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It is so many years before one can believe enough in what one feels even to know what the feeling is.
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I cast my heart into my rhymes, That you, in the dim coming times, May know how my heart went with them After the red-rose-bordered hem.
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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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In dreams begin responsibilitiy.
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We are closed in, and the key is turned / On our uncertainty.
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I believe that our memories are part of one great memory, the memory of Nature herself.
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Words are always getting conventionalized to some secondary meaning. It is one of the works of poetry to take the truants in custody and bring them back to their right senses.
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It is one of the great troubles of life that we cannot have any unmixed emotions. There is always something in our enemy that we like, and something in our sweetheart that we dislike.
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Think like a wise man but communicate in the language of the people.
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Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire.
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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.
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It seems to me that love, if it is fine, is essentially a discipline.
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An intellectual hate is the worst.
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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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