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 YEATSIt seems to me that love, if it is fine, is essentially a discipline.
More William Butler Yeats Quotes
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All dreams of the soul End in a beautiful man’s or woman’s body.
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The visible world is no longer a reality and the unseen world no longer a dream.
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And a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone.
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Only that which does not teach, which does not cry out, which does not condescend, which does not explain, is irresistible.
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It is so many years before one can believe enough in what one feels even to know what the feeling is.
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It seems to me that love, if it is fine, is essentially a discipline.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Teaching is not filling up a pail, it is lighting a fire.
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I believe that our memories are part of one great memory, the memory of Nature herself.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
I heard the old, old, men say ‘all that’s beautiful drifts away, like the waters.’
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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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If suffering brings wisdom, I would wish to be less wise.
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Where there is nothing, there is God.
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The innocent and the beautiful have no enemy but time.
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And I will find some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings.
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Joy is of the will which labours, which overcomes obstacles, which knows triumph.
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Everything exists, everything is true and the earth is just a bit of dust beneath our feet.
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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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And wisdom is a butterfly And not a gloomy bird of prey.
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Think like a wise man but communicate in the language of the people.
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We taste and feel and see the truth. We do not reason ourselves into it.
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We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, but of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry.
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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.
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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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The tragedy of sexual intercourse is the perpetual virginity of the soul.
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When two close kindred meet, What better than call a dance?
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Though leaves are many, the root is one.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS