How can I, that girl standing there, My attention fix On Roman or on Russian Or on Spanish politics? — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
How can the arts overcome the slow dying of men's hearts that we call progress ? — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Those men that in their writings are most wise Own nothing but their blind, stupefied hearts. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
When an immortal passion breathes in mortal clay; Our hearts endure the scourge, the plaited thorns, the way Crowded with bitter faces,… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Nothing but stillness can remain when hearts are full Of their own sweetness, bodies of their loveliness. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
O heart the winds have shaken, the unappeasable host Is comelier than candles at Mother Mary's feet. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Come, heart, where hill is heaped upon hill: For there the mystical brotherhood Of sun and moon and hollow and wood And… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
I have nothing more to give you than my heart. Spanish saying Hearts are not to be had as a gift hearts… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
I--though heart might find relief Did I become a Christian man and choose for my belief What seems most welcome in the… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
If a powerful and benevolent spirit has shaped the destiny of this world, we can better discover that destiny from the words… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
A strange thing surely that my Heart, when love had come unsought Upon the Norman upland or in that poplar shade, Should… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
I thought no more was needed Youth to prolong Than dumb-bell and foil To keep the body young. O who could have… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
The creations of a great writer are little more than the moods and passions of his own heart, given surnames and Christian… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping...I hear it in the deep heart's… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Beloved, gaze in thine own heart, The holy tree is growing there; From joy the holy branches start, And all the trembling… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
The fascination of what's difficult Has dried the sap out of my veins, and rent Spontaneous joy and natural content Out of… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
I sat on cushioned otter-skin: My word was law from Ith to Emain, And shook at Invar Amargin The hearts of the… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
How far away the stars seem, and how far is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
O heart, be at peace, because Nor knave nor dolt can break What's not for their applause, Being for a woman's sake. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
I would have touched it like a child But knew my finger could but have touched Cold stone and water. I grew wild, Even… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
You know what the Englishman's idea of compromise is? He says, Some people say there is a God. Some people say there is no… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
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… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
That toil of growing up; The ignominy of boyhood; the distress Of boyhood changing into man; The unfinished man and his pain. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
I see a schoolboy when I think of him, With face and nose pressed to a sweet-shop window. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Only God, my dear, Could love you for yourself alone And not your yellow hair. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
I know that I shall meet my fate somewhere among the clouds above; those that I fight I do not hate, those that I… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Great literature has always been written in a like spirit, and is, indeed, the Forgiveness of Sin, and when we find it becoming the… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Where the wave of moonlight glosses The dim gray sands with light, Far off by furthest Rosses We foot it all the night, Weaving… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
His element is so fine Being sharpened by his death, To drink from the wine-breath While our gross palates drink from the whole wine. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
