William Butler Yeats Quotes

And I will find some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,/ Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings.

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Eyes spiritualised by death can judge, I cannot, but I am not content.

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When I play on my fiddle in Dooney Folk dance like a wave on the sea.

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The world being illusive, one must be deluded in some way if one is to triumph in it.

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I say that Roger Casement Did what he had to do, He died upon the gallows But that is nothing new.

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He only can create the greatest imaginable beauty who has endured all imaginable pangs, for only when we have seen and foreseen what we dread shall we be rewarded by that dazzling unforeseen wing-footed wanderer.

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From our birthday, until we die, Is but the winking of an eye.

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We can only begin to live when we conceive life as Tragedy.

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I went out to the hazelwood because a fire was in my head.

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Speech after long silence; it is right, All other lovers being estranged or dead . . . That we descant and yet again descant Upon the supreme theme of Art and Song: Bodily decrepitude is wisdom; young We loved each other and were ignorant.

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All the great masters have understood that there cannot be great art without the little limited life of the fable, which is always better the simpler it is, and the rich, far-wandering, many-imaged life of the half-seen world beyond it

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Take, if you must, this little bag of dreams, Unloose the cord, and they will wrap you round.

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Being young you have not known The fool's triumph, nor yet Love lost as soon as won, Nor the best labourer dead And all the sheaves to bind.

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All art that is not mere storytelling, or mere portraiture, is symbolic, and has the purpose of those symbolic talismans which medieval magicians made with complex colours and forms, and bade their patients ponder over daily, and guard with holy secrecy; for it entangles, in complex colours and forms, a part of the Divine Essence.

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The intellect of man is forced to choose Perfection of the life, or of the work And if it take the second must refuse A heavenly mansion, raging in the dark.

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There is only one romance the Soul's.

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While on that old grey stone I sat Under the old wind-broken tree, I knew that One is animate, Mankind inanimate phantasy.

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That toil of growing up; The ignominy of boyhood; the distress Of boyhood changing into man; The unfinished man and his pain.

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A statesman is an easy man, he tells his lies by rote. A journalist invents his lies, and rams them down your throat. So stay at home and drink your beer and let the neighbors vote.

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Think where man's glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends.

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