There is another world, but it is in this one.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSRose 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.
More William Butler Yeats Quotes
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An intellectual hate is the worst.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
The worst thing about some men is that when they are not drunk they are sober.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
And wisdom is a butterfly And not a gloomy bird of prey.
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 -
It takes more courage to dig deep in the dark corners of your own soul and the back alleys of your society than it does for a soldier to fight on the battlefield.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Talent perceives differences; genius, unity.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
Teaching is not filling up a pail, it is lighting a fire.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.
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 -
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 -
But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
The winds that awakened the stars Are blowing through my blood.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
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.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS -
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 -
Myself I must remake.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS