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And the merry love the fiddle, and the merry love to dance.

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
Dance
Love
Fiddle
Merry

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O what fine thought we had because we thought that the worst rogues and rascals had died out.
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It's certain there are trout somewhere - And maybe I shall take a trout - but I do not seem to care.
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Gaze no more in the bitter glass The demons, with their subtle guile, Lift up before us when they pass, Or only gaze a little while.
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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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The true faith discovered was When painted panel, statuary, Glass-mosaic, window-glass, Amended what was told awry By some peasant gospeler.
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It's certain that fine women eat A crazy salad with their meat.
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I have nothing more to give you than my heart. Spanish saying Hearts are not to be had as a gift hearts are to be earned.
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...How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face... When You Are Old And Gray
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What made us dream that he could comb gray hair?
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I hate journalists. There is nothing in them but tittering jeering emptiness. They have all made what Dante calls the Great Refusal. The shallowest people on the ridge of the earth.
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Teaching is not filling up a pail, it is lighting a fire.
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How can the arts overcome the slow dying of men's hearts that we call progress ?
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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.
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O cloud-pale eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes, The poets labouring all their days To build a perfect beauty in rhyme Are overthrown by a woman's gaze.
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Beloved, let your eyes half close, and your heart beat Over my heart, and your hair fall over my breast, Drowning love's lonely hour in deep twilight of rest.
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I know, although when looks meet I tremble to the bone, The more I leave the door unlatched The sooner love is gone.
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We only believe in those thoughts which have been conceived not in the brain but in the whole body.
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One should say before sleeping: I have lived many lives. I have been a slave and a prince. Many a beloved has sat upon my knee and I have sat upon the knees of many a beloved. Everything that has been shall be again.
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There is another world, but it is in this one.
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When a man grows old his joy Grows more deep day after day, His empty heart is full at length But he has need of all that strength Because of the increasing Night That opens her mystery and fright.
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