When two close kindred meet, What better than call a dance?
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSIt 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.
More William Butler Yeats Quotes
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Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire.
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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.
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Love is created and preserved by intellectual analysis, for we love only that which is unique, and it belongs to contemplation, not to action, for we would not change that which we love.
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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.
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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.
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Wine enters through the mouth, Love, the eyes. I raise the glass to my mouth, I look at you, I sigh.
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I’m looking for the face I had, before the world was made.
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Man is in love and loves what vanishes, What more is there to say?
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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.
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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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The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.
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Everything that’s lovely is But a brief, dreamy kind of delight.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
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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Think where man’s glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends.
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There is another world, but it is in this one.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS