Think where man’s glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends.
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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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.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
I have observed dreams and visions very carefully, and am now certain that the imagination has some way of lighting on the truth that the reason has not, and that its commandments, delivered when the body is still and the reason silent, are the most binding we can ever know.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
In dreams begin responsibilitiy.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
All dreams of the soul End in a beautiful man’s or woman’s body.
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 -
Only that which does not teach, which does not cry out, which does not condescend, which does not explain, is irresistible.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
All empty souls tend toward extreme opinions.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, but of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Life is a long preparation for something that never happens.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Wine enters through the mouth, Love, the eyes. I raise the glass to my mouth, I look at you, I sigh.
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.
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Talent perceives differences; genius, unity.
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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.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
I cast my heart into my rhymes, That you, in the dim coming times, May know how my heart went with them After the red-rose-bordered hem.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS