God guard me from those thoughts men think In the mind alone.
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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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!
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
If what I say resonates with you, it’s merely because we’re branches of the same tree.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Happiness is neither virtue nor pleasure nor this thing nor that but simply growth, We are happy when we are growing.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Everything that’s lovely is But a brief, dreamy kind of delight.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
It seems to me that love, if it is fine, is essentially a discipline.
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 -
It is love that I am seeking for, But of a beautiful, unheard-of kind That is not in the world.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
It seems to me that true love is a discipline.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, but of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
What man does not understand, he fears; and what he fears, he tends to destroy.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
The mystical life is the centre of all that I do and all that I think and all that I write. I have always considered myself a voice of what I believe to be a greater renaissance – the revolt of the soul against the intellect.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Do not wait to strike till the iron is hot; but make it hot by striking.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
All empty souls tend toward extreme opinions.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
It is so many years before one can believe enough in what one feels even to know what the feeling is.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
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.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS






