O heart, we are old; The living beauty is for younger men: We cannot pay its tribute of wild tears. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
“The intellect of man is forced to choose Perfection of the life, or of the work.” — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
The winds that awakened the stars Are blowing through my blood. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
The mystical life is at the centre of all that I do and all that I think and all that I write. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
yet it seems Life scarce can cast a fragrance on the wind, Scarce spread a glory to the morning beams, But the… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Let the new faces play what tricks they will In the old rooms; night can outbalance day, Our shadows rove the garden… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
I am content to live it all again And yet again, if it be life to pitch Into the frog-spawn of a… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Man's life is thought, And he, despite his terror, cannot cease Ravening through century after century, Ravening, raging, and uprooting that he… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
. . . you may think I waste my breath Pretending that there can be passion That has more life in it than death — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Yet they that know all things but know That all this life can give us is A child's laughter, a woman's kiss. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Never to have lived is best, ancient writers say. Never to have drawn the breath of life, never to have looked into… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
It is one of the great troubles of life that we cannot have any unmixed emotions. There is always something in our… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
I had still the ambition, formed in Sligo in my teens, of living in imitation of Thoreau on Innisfree, a little island… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
In life courtesy and self-possession, and in the arts style, are the sensible impressions of the free mind, for both arise out… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Life is a journey up a spiral staircase; as we grow older we cover the ground covered we have covered before, only… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
The things a man has heard and seen are threads of life, and if he pull them carefully from the confused distaff… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
The mystical life is the centre of all that I do and all that I think and all that I write. .… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
To sit beside the board and drink good wine And watch the turf smoke coiling from the fire And feel content and… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
And that enquiring man John Synge comes next, That dying chose the living world for text And never could have rested in… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
“When I think of life as struggle with the Daimon who would ever set us to the hardest work among those not… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
I balanced all, brought all to mind, the years to come seemed waste of breath, a waste of breath the years behind,… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Give to these children, new from the world, Rest far from men. Is anything better, anything better? Tell us it then. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Being young you have not known The fool's triumph, nor yet Love lost as soon as won, Nor the best labourer dead… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Life moves out of a red flare of dreams Into a common light of common hours, Until old age brings the red… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Neither Christ nor Buddha nor Socrates wrote a book, for to do so is to exchange life for a logical process. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
What can books of men that wive In a dragon-guarded land, Paintings of the dolphin-drawn Sea-nymphs in their pearly wagons Do, but… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Many times man lives and dies Betweeen his two eternities, That of race and that of soul, And ancient Ireland knew it… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
A mouth that has no moisture and no breath Breathless mouths may summon; I hail the superhuman; I call it death-in-life and… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
There is no release In a bodkin or disease, Nor can there be a work so great As that which cleans man's… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
My temptation is quiet. Here at life's end Neither loose imagination Nor the mill of the mind Consuming its rag and bone,… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Endure what life God gives and ask no longer span; Cease to remember the delights of youth, travel-wearied aged man; Delight becomes… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
I think all happiness depends on the energy to assume the mask of some other life, on a re-birth as something not… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
The intellect of man is forced to choose Perfection of the life, or of the work And if it take the second… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
I have mummy truths to tell Whereat the living mock, Though not for sober ear, For maybe all that hear Should laugh… — 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
