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O heart, we are old The living beauty is for younger men: We cannot pay its tribute of wild tears.
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
Living
Tribute
Cannot
Excitement
Heart
Aging
Men
Younger
Wild
Tears
Pay
Beauty
More quotes by William Butler Yeats
Bodies of holy men and women exude Miraculous oil, odour of violet. But under heavy loads of trampled clay Lie bodies of the vampires full of blood Their shrouds are bloody and their lips are wet.
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Maybe the bride-bed brings despair, For each an imagined image brings And finds a real image there...
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Now must we sing and sing the best we can, But first you must be told your character: Convicted cowards all, by kindred slain.
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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?
William Butler Yeats
Some moralist or mythological poet Compares the solitary soul to a swan I am satisfied with that, Satisfied if a troubled mirror show it, Before that brief gleam of its life be gone.
William Butler Yeats
What shall I do for pretty girls Now my old bawd is dead?
William Butler Yeats
Shakespearean fish swam the sea, far away from land Romantic fish swam in nets coming to the hand.
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How but in custom and in ceremony are innocence and beauty born?
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Never to have lived is best, ancient writers say. Never to have drawn the breath of life, never to have looked into the eye of day The second best's a gay goodnight and quickly turn away.
William Butler Yeats
Books are but waste paper unless we spend in action the wisdom we get from thought - asleep. When we are weary of the living, we may repair to the dead, who have nothing of peevishness, pride, or design in their conversation.
William Butler Yeats
What man does not understand, he fears and what he fears, he tends to destroy.
William Butler Yeats
What portion in the world can the artist have, Who has awakened from the common dream, But dissipation and despair?
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Do not wait to strike till the iron is hot but make it hot by striking.
William Butler Yeats
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
William Butler Yeats
And God stands winding His lonely horn, And time and the world are ever in flight.
William Butler Yeats
One should not lose one's temper unless one is certain of getting more and more angry to the end.
William Butler Yeats
Like a long-legged fly upon the stream / His mind moves upon silence.
William Butler Yeats
What can I but enumerate old themes?
William Butler Yeats
What made us dream that he could comb gray hair?
William Butler Yeats
All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart, The heavy steps of the plowman, splashing the wintry mold, Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.
William Butler Yeats
