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One should not lose one's temper unless one is certain of getting more and more angry to the end.
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
Lose
Loses
Getting
Ends
Certain
Temper
Anger
Angry
Unless
More quotes by William Butler Yeats
All hatred driven hence, The soul recovers radical innocence And learns at last that it is self-delighting, Self-appeasing, self-affrighting, And that its own sweet will is Heaven's will
William Butler Yeats
I sat, a solitary man, In a crowded London shop, An open book and empty cup On the marble table-top. While on the shop and street I gazed My body of a sudden blazed And twenty minutes more or less It seemed, so great my happiness, That I was blessed and could bless.
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Whatever flames upon the night Man's own resinous heart has fed.
William Butler Yeats
If there's no hatred in a mind Assault and battery of the wind Can never tear the linnet from the leaf
William Butler Yeats
So long as all is ordered for attack, and that alone, leaders will instinctively increase the number of enemies that they may give their followers something to do.
William Butler Yeats
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray, I hear it in the deep heart's core.
William Butler Yeats
for never yet Has lover lived, but longed to wive Like them that are no more alive.
William Butler Yeats
People who lean on logic and philosophy and rational exposition end by starving the best part of the mind.
William Butler Yeats
I carry from my mother's womb a fanatic's heart.
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How but in custom and in ceremony are innocence and beauty born?
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One man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
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Life moves out of a red flare of dreams Into a common light of common hours, Until old age brings the red flare again.
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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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Joy is of the will which labours, which overcomes obstacles, which knows triumph.
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Everything in nature is resurrection.
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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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I know that I shall meet my fate somewhere among the clouds above those that I fight I do not hate, those that I guard I do not love.
William Butler Yeats
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.
William Butler Yeats
Nothing that we love overmuch Is ponderable to our touch.
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We have lit upon the gentle, sensitive mind And lost the old nonchalance of the hand Whether we have chosen chisel, pen or brush, We are but critics, or but half create.
William Butler Yeats