One man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSOne 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.
More William Butler Yeats Quotes
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Every conquering temptation represents a new fund of moral energy. Every trial endured and weathered in the right spirit makes a soul nobler and stronger than it was before.
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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.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
And I will find some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
The visible world is no longer a reality and the unseen world no longer a dream.
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In dreams begins responsibility.
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Literature is always personal, always one man’s vision of the world, one man’s experience, and it can only be popular when men are ready to welcome the visions of others.
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Ecstasy is from the contemplation of things vaster than the individual and imperfectly seen perhaps, by all those that still live.
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Sometimes my feet are tired and my hands are quiet, but there is no quiet in my heart.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
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.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire.
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Myself I must remake.
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There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
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Hearts are not had as a gift, But hearts are earned.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World! You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurled. Upon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ring The bell that calls us on; the sweet far thing.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
And pluck till time and times are done the silver apples of the moon the golden apples of the sun.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS