William Butler Yeats Quotes

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

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I have grown to believe that there is no dangerous idea, which does not become less dangerous when written out in sincere and careful English.

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Players and painted stage took all my love, And not those things that they were emblems of.

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The common breeds the common, A lout begets a lout, So when I take on half a score I knock their heads about.

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even The bed of love, that in the imagination Had seemed to be the giver of all peace, Is no more than a wine-cup in the tasting, And as soon finished.

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A living man is blind and drinks his drop. What matter if the ditches are impure? What matter if I live it all once more?

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Every conquering temptation represents a new fund of moral energy. Every trial endured and weathered in the right spirit makes a soul nobler and stronger than it was before.

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I had still the ambition, formed in Sligo in my teens, of living in imitation of Thoreau on Innisfree, a little island in Lough Gill, and when walking through Fleet Street very homesick I heard a little tinkle of water and saw a fountain in a shop window which balanced a little ball upon its jet, and began to remember lake water. From the sudden remembrance came my poem Innisfree.

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Bid imagination run / Much on the Great Questioner; / What He can question, what if questioned I / Can with a fitting confidence reply.

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Time drops in decay Like a candle burnt out. And the mountains and woods Have their day, have their day; But, kindly old rout Of the fire-born moods, You pass not away.

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I see a schoolboy when I think of him, With face and nose pressed to a sweet-shop window.

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For how can you compete Being honour bred, with one Who, were it proved he lies, Were neither shamed in his own Nor in his neighbour's eyes?

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Ah, let us kiss each other's eyes,/And laugh our love away.

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Pale brows, still hands and dim hair, I had a beautiful friend And dreamed that the old despair Would end in love in the end.

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If soul my look and body touch, Which is the more blest?

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A lonely impulse of delight

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All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart, The heavy steps of the plowman, splashing the wintry mold, Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.

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A drunkard is a dead man And all dead men are drunk.

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How can the arts overcome the slow dying of men's hearts that we call progress ?

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People are responsible for their opinions, but Providence is responsible for their morals.

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