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I summon to the winding ancient stair Set all your mind upon the steep ascent
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
Stairs
Thoughtful
Ancient
Eternity
Stair
Upon
Winding
Mind
Summon
Thinking
Ascent
Steep
More quotes by William Butler Yeats
Englishmen are babes in philosophy and so prefer faction-fighting to the labour of its unfamiliar thought.
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Only the wasteful virtues earn the sun.
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Education is not about filling a pail, it's about lighting a fire.
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For what but eye and ear silence the mind With the minute particulars of mankind?
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I say that Roger Casement Did what he had to do, He died upon the gallows But that is nothing new.
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Man has created death.
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A pity beyond all telling is hid in the heart of love.
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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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I know of the leafy paths that the witches take Who come with their crowns of pearl and their spindles of wool, And their secret smile, out of the depths of the lake.
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Death and life were not Till man made up the whole, Made lock, stock and barrel Out of his bitter soul
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Mysticism has been in the past and probably ever will be one of the great powers of the world and it is bad scholarship to pretend the contrary.
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The living can assist the imagination of the dead.
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All that we did, all that we said or sang must come from contact with the soil.
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Who dreamed that beauty passes like a dream? For these red lips, with all their mournful pride, Mournful that no new wonder may betide, Troy passed away in one high funeral gleam, And Usna's children died.
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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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What do we know but that we face one another in this place?
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What the world's million lips are searching for, must be substantial somewhere.
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Everything we look upon is blest.
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The common breeds the common, A lout begets a lout, So when I take on half a score I knock their heads about.
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I would that I were an old beggar Rolling a blind pearl eye, For he cannot see my lady Go gallivanting by.
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