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Style, personality - deliberately adopted and therefore a mask - is the only escape from the hot-faced bargainers and money-changers.

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
Hot
Escape
Personality
Therefore
Changers
Style
Deliberately
Money
Adopted
Faced
Mask

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How can I, that girl standing there, My attention fix On Roman or on Russian Or on Spanish politics?
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Love is based on inequality as friendship is on equality.
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The house ghost is usually a harmless and well-meaning creature. It is put up with as long as possible. It brings good luck to those who live with it.
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We had fed the heart on fantasies, The heart's grown brutal from the fare, More substance in our enmities Than in our love
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Poetry and music I have banished, But the stupidity Of root, shoot, blossom or clay Makes no demand. I bend my body to the spade Or grope with a dirty hand.
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Never shall a young man, Thrown into despair By those great honey-coloured Ramparts at your ear, Love you for yourself alone And not your yellow hair.
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Acquaintance companion One dear brilliant woman The best-endowed, the elect, All by their youth undone, All, all, by that inhuman Bitter glory wrecked.
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Many ingenious lovely things are gone / That seemed sheer miracle to the multitude.
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Hearts with one purpose alone/Through summer and winter seem/Enchanted to a stone/To trouble the living stream.
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We can only begin to live when we conceive life as Tragedy.
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I thought it out this very day, Noon upon the clock, A man may put pretence away Who leans upon a stick, May sing, and sing until he drop, Whether to maid or hag.
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There are no strangers here Only friends you haven't yet met.
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Man has created death.
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I sat, a solitary man, In a crowded London shop, An open book and empty cup On the marble table-top. While on the shop and street I gazed My body of a sudden blazed And twenty minutes more or less It seemed, so great my happiness, That I was blessed and could bless.
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It's certain that fine women eat A crazy salad with their meat.
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The poor have very few hours in which to enjoy themselves they must take their pleasure raw they haven't the time to cook it.
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. . . you may think I waste my breath Pretending that there can be passion That has more life in it than death
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Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World! You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurled. Upon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ring The bell that calls us on the sweet far thing.
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Because the priest must have like every dog his day Or keep us all awake with baying at the moon, We and our dolls being but the world were best away.
William Butler Yeats
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I'm looking for the face I had, before the world was made.
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