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The woods of Arcady are dead, And over is their antique joy Of old the world on dreaming fed Gray Truth is now her painted toy.
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
Joy
Antiques
Dream
Painted
Truth
Feds
World
Dreaming
Toys
Gray
Woods
Dead
Antique
More quotes by William Butler Yeats
I thought no more was needed Youth to prolong Than dumb-bell and foil To keep the body young. O who could have foretold That the heart grows old?
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Nothing but stillness can remain when hearts are full Of their own sweetness, bodies of their loveliness.
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It was my first meeting with a philosophy that confirmed my vague speculations and seemed at once logical and boundless.
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Things said or done long years ago Or things I did not do or say But thought that I might say or do, Weigh me down, and not a day But something is recalled, My conscience or my vanity appalled.
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A poet is a good citizen turned inside out.
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Though leaves are many, the root is one.
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Everything exists, everything is true and the earth is just a bit of dust beneath our feet.
William Butler Yeats
The Bishop has a skin, God knows, Wrinkled like the foot of a goose, (All find safety in the tomb.) Nor can he hide in holy black The heron's hunch upon his back, But a birch-tree stood my Jack.
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Ecstasy is from the contemplation of things vaster than the individual and imperfectly seen perhaps, by all those that still live.
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Who dreamed that beauty passes like a dream?
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An intellectual hatred is the worst.
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Come let us mock at the good That fancied goodness might be gay, And sick of solitude Might proclaim a holiday: Wind shrieked and where are they?
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If what I say resonates with you, it's merely because we're branches of the same tree.
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A tree there is that from its topmost bough Is half all glittering flame and half all green Abounding foliage moistened with the dew And half is half and yet is all the scene And half and half consume what they renew.
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Farewell - farewell, For I am weary of the weight of time.
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.
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Too many things are occurring for even a big heart to hold.
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It's certain that fine women eat A crazy salad with their meat.
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Many ingenious lovely things are gone / That seemed sheer miracle to the multitude.
William Butler Yeats
I have mummy truths to tell Whereat the living mock, Though not for sober ear, For maybe all that hear Should laugh and weep an hour upon the clock.
William Butler Yeats
