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Farewell - farewell, For I am weary of the weight of time.
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
Farewell
Weary
Weight
Time
More quotes by William Butler Yeats
I am of a healthy long lived race, and our minds improve with age.
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I agree about Shaw - he is haunted by the mystery he flouts. He is an atheist who trembles in the haunted corridor.
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I can exchange opinion with any neighbouring mind, I have as healthy flesh and blood as any rhymer's had, But O! my Heart could bear no more when the upland caught the wind I ran, I ran, from my love's side because my Heart went mad.
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Time can but make it easier to be wise / Though now it seems impossible, and so / All that you need is patience.
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All the wild-witches, those most notable ladies For all their broom-sticks and their tears, Their angry tears, are gone.
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Cuchulain stirred, Stared on the horses of the sea, and heard The cars of battle and his own name cried And fought with the invulnerable tide.
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Hurrah for revolution and cannon come again! The beggars have changed places, but the lash goes on.
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It seems to me that love, if it is fine, is essentially a discipline.
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I spit into the face of time that has transfigured me
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The falcon cannot hear the falconer
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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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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
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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.
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While on that old grey stone I sat Under the old wind-broken tree, I knew that One is animate, Mankind inanimate phantasy.
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yet it seems Life scarce can cast a fragrance on the wind, Scarce spread a glory to the morning beams, But the torn petals strew the garden plot And there's but common greenness after that.
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Who mocks at music mocks at love.
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The mystical life is at the centre of all that I do and all that I think and all that I write.
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The labor of the alchemists, who were called artist in their day, is a befitting comparison for a deliberate change of style.
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We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, but of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry.
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Everything we look upon is blest.
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