Though leaves are many, the root is one.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSChoose your companions from the best; Who draws a bucket with the rest soon topples down the hill.
More William Butler Yeats Quotes
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It is love that I am seeking for, But of a beautiful, unheard-of kind That is not in the world.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
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.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Neither Christ nor Buddha nor Socrates wrote a book, for to do so is to exchange life for a logical process.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Everything in nature is resurrection.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
The innocent and the beautiful have no enemy but time.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Wine enters through the mouth, Love, the eyes. I raise the glass to my mouth, I look at you, I sigh.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.
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 -
All 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 YEATS -
There are no strangers here; Only friends you haven’t yet met.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
And wisdom is a butterfly And not a gloomy bird of prey.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
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.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
The visible world is no longer a reality and the unseen world no longer a dream.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
only an aching heart Conceives a changeless work of art.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
All dreams of the soul End in a beautiful man’s or woman’s body.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS