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We have fallen in the dreams the ever-living Breathe on the tarnished mirror of the world, And then smooth out with ivory hands and sigh.

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
Breathe
Dreams
Tarnished
Living
Ivory
Hands
Sigh
Dream
Smooth
Ever
Mirror
World
Fallen
Mirrors

More quotes by William Butler Yeats

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We taste and feel and see the truth. We do not reason ourselves into it.
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The friends that have it I do wrong Whenever I remake a song, Should know what issue is at stake: It is myself that I remake.
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Supreme art is a traditional statement of certain heroic and religious truth, passed on from age to age, modified by individual genius, but never abandoned.
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Maybe the bride-bed brings despair, For each an imagined image brings And finds a real image there...
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I hear it in the deep heart's core.
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... Let the cage bird and the cage bird mate and the wild bird mate in the wild.
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It is one of the great troubles of life that we cannot have any unmixed emotions. There is always something in our enemy that we like, and something in our sweetheart that we dislike.
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We can make our minds so like still water that beings gather about us that they may see, it may be, their own images, and so live for a moment with a clearer, perhaps even with a fiercer life because of our quiet.
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I broke my heart in two So hard I struck. What matter? for I know That out of rock, Out of a desolate source, Love leaps upon its course.
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Nothing that we love overmuch Is ponderable to our touch.
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Many ingenious lovely things are gone / That seemed sheer miracle to the multitude.
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The old priest Peter Gilligan Was weary night and day For half his flock were in their beds, Or under green sods lay.
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Odor of blood when Christ was slain Made all Platonic tolerance vain And vain all Doric discipline.
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Whatever flames upon the night Man's own resinous heart has fed.
William Butler Yeats
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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.
William Butler Yeats
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I had this thought a while ago, My darling cannot understand What I have done, or what would do In this blind bitter land. And I grew weary of the sun
William Butler Yeats
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Do not wait to strike till the iron is hot but make it hot by striking.
William Butler Yeats
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But Love has pitched his mansion in the place of excrement. For nothing can be sole or whole that has not been rent.
William Butler Yeats
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I rise in the dawn, and I kneel and blow Till the seed of the fire flicker and glow And then I must scrub and bake and sweep Till the stars are beginning to blink and peep And the young lie long and dream in their bed.
William Butler Yeats
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Labor is blossoming or dancing where The body is not bruised to pleasure soul, Nor beauty born out of its own despair, Nor blear-eyed wisdom out of midnight oil. O chestnut tree, great-rooted blossomer, Are you the leaf, the blossom or the bole? O body swayed to music, O brightening glance How can we know the dancer from the dance?
William Butler Yeats