How could passion run so deep Had I never thought That the crime of being born Blackens all our lot? — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
A passion-driven exultant man sings out Sentences that he has never thought. — 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
It is not permitted to a man, who takes up pen or chisel, to seek originality, for passion is his only business,… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Although our love is waning, let us stand by the lone border of the lake once more, together in that hour of… — 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
But boys and girls, pale from the imagined love Of solitary beds, knew what they were, That passion could bring character enough… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Why should I seek for love or study it? It is of God and passes human wit; I study hatred with great… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
“They must go out of the theatre with the strength they live by strengthened from looking upon some passion that could, whatever… — 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
