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When you are old and gray and full of sleep, and nodding by the fire, take down this book and slowly read, and dream of the soft look your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep.
William Butler Yeats
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William Butler Yeats
Age: 73 †
Born: 1865
Born: June 13
Died: 1939
Died: January 28
Astrologer
Mystic
Playwright
Poet
Politician
Writer
Scrooby
Nottinghamshire
W. B. Yeats
William Yeats
W.B. Yeats
Eye
Gray
Nodding
Read
Slowly
Bending
Beautiful
Shadow
Overhead
Dream
Deep
Glowing
Look
Full
Nostalgia
Book
Fire
Shadows
Looks
Sleep
Retirement
Take
Eyes
Soft
More quotes by William Butler Yeats
There is another world, but it is in this one.
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Never to have lived is best, ancient writers say. Never to have drawn the breath of life, never to have looked into the eye of day The second best's a gay goodnight and quickly turn away.
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Who mocks at music mocks at love.
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The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.
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Let the new faces play what tricks they will In the old rooms night can outbalance day, Our shadows rove the garden gravel still, The living seem more shadowy than they.
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What portion in the world can the artist have, Who has awakened from the common dream, But dissipation and despair?
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When we have blamed the wind we can blame love.
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I believe... that our memories are part of one great memory, the memory of Nature herself.
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Choose your companions from the best Who draws a bucket with the rest soon topples down the hill.
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All dreams of the soul End in a beautiful man's or woman's body.
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The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart.
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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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We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, but of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry.
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The women that I picked spoke sweet and low And yet gave tongue. Hound voices were they all.
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The Muse is mute when public men Applaud a modern throne.
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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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Who dreamed that beauty passes like a dream?
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Oh, Love is the crooked thing, there is nobody wise enough to find out all that is in it, for he will be thinking about love til the stars run away and the shadows eaten the moon.
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but one loses, as one grows older, something of the lightness of one's dreams one begins to take life up in both hands, and to care more for the fruit than the flower, and that is no great loss perhaps.
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An aged man is but a paltry thing, a tattered coat upon a stick, unless soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing for every tatter in its mortal dress.
William Butler Yeats