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The only business of the head in the world is to bow a ceaseless obeisance to the heart.
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
Miscellaneous
Bows
Head
Business
Heart
Life
World
Obeisance
Ceaseless
More quotes by William Butler Yeats
Does the imagination dwell the most Upon a woman won or a woman lost?
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Any fool can fight a winning battle, but it needs character to fight a losing one, and that should inspire us which reminds me that I dreamed the other night that I was being hanged, but was the life and soul of the party.
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Happiness is neither virtue nor pleasure nor this thing nor that but simply growth, We are happy when we are growing.
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May we two stand, When we are dead, beyond the setting suns, A little from other shades apart, With mingling hair, and play upon one lute.
William Butler Yeats
I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping...I hear it in the deep heart's core.
William Butler Yeats
Consume my heart away, sick with desire And fastened to a dying animal It knows not what it is, and gather me Into the artifice of eternity.
William Butler Yeats
A pity beyond all telling is hid in the heart of love.
William Butler Yeats
Man can embody truth but he cannot know it.
William Butler Yeats
The hare grows old as she plays in the sun And gazes around her with eyes of brightness Before the swift things that she dreamed of were done She limps along in an aged whiteness.
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Wine comes in at the mouth And love comes in at the eye That's all we shall know for truth Before we grow old and die.
William Butler Yeats
Nothing but stillness can remain when hearts are full Of their own sweetness, bodies of their loveliness.
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Myself I must remake.
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How can we know the dancer from the dance?
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If suffering brings wisdom, I would wish to be less wise.
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Sometimes my feet are tired and my hands are quiet, but there is no quiet in my heart.
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If a poet interprets a poem of his own he limits its suggestibility.
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And God would bid His warfare cease, Saying all things were well And softly make a rosy peace, A peace of Heaven with Hell.
William Butler Yeats
God guard me from those thoughts men think In the mind alone.
William Butler Yeats
I can forgive even that wrong of wrongs, Those undreamt accidents that have made me Seeing that Fame has perished this long while, Being but a part of ancient ceremony Notorious, till all my priceless things Are but a post the passing dogs defile.
William Butler Yeats
When we are high and airy hundreds say That if we hold that flight they'll leave the place, While those same hundreds mock another day Because we have made our art of common things.
William Butler Yeats
