I believe that our memories are part of one great memory, the memory of Nature herself.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSThough leaves are many, the root is one; Through all the lying days of my youth I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun Now I may wither into the truth.
More William Butler Yeats Quotes
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Think like a wise man but communicate in the language of the people.
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Happiness is neither virtue nor pleasure nor this thing nor that but simply growth, We are happy when we are growing.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
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.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Think where man’s glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends.
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People who lean on logic and philosophy and rational exposition end by starving the best part of the mind.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Everything that’s lovely is But a brief, dreamy kind of delight.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
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 -
Neither Christ nor Buddha nor Socrates wrote a book, for to do so is to exchange life for a logical process.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Sometimes my feet are tired and my hands are quiet, but there is no quiet in my heart.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Take, if you must, this little bag of dreams, Unloose the cord, and they will wrap you round.
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The visible world is no longer a reality and the unseen world no longer a dream.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
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.
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 -
In dreams begins responsibility.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS