Quote

My soul had found All happiness in its own cause or ground. Godhead on Godhead in sexual spasm begot Godhead. Some shadow fell. My soul forgot Those amorous cries that out of quiet come And must the common round of day resume.

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
Happiness
Cry
Resume
Found
Ground
Resumes
Soul
Shadow
Cries
Come
Sex
Forgot
Must
Quiet
Fell
Begot
Cause
Sexual
Spasm
Causes
Round
Amorous
Common
Rounds
Godhead

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There is no deformity But saves us from a dream.
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I spit into the face of time that has transfigured me
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Nor seek, for this is also sooth, To hunger fiercely after truth, Lest all thy toiling only breeds New dreams, new dreams there is no truth Saving in thine own heart.
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I dreamed that I stood in a valley, and amid sighs, For happy lovers passed two by two where I stood And I dreamed my lost love came stealthily out of the wood With her cloud-pale eyelids falling on dream-dimmed eyes.
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O heart the winds have shaken, the unappeasable host Is comelier than candles at Mother Mary's feet.
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True love is a discipline in which each divines the secret self of the other and refuses to believe in the mere daily self.
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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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Everything that man esteems Endures a moment or a day.
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From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have ranged / In rambling talk with an image of air: / Vague memories, nothing but memories.
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Does the imagination dwell the most Upon a woman won or a woman lost?
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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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I would that there was nothing in the world But my beloved that night and day had perished, And all that is and all that is to be, All that is not the meeting of our lips.
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We are fastened to a dying animal.
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I always think a great speaker convinces us not by force of reasoning, but because he is visibly enjoying the beliefs he wants us to accept.
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I carry from my mother's womb a fanatic's heart.
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My temptation is quiet. Here at life's end Neither loose imagination Nor the mill of the mind Consuming its rag and bone, Can make the truth known.
William Butler Yeats
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The night can sweat with terror as before We pieced our thoughts into philosophy, And planned to bring the world under a rule, Who are but weasels fighting in a hole.
William Butler Yeats
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And pluck till time and times are done the silver apples of the moon the golden apples of the sun.
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All hatred driven hence, The soul recovers radical innocence And learns at last that it is self-delighting, Self-appeasing, self-affrighting, And that its own sweet will is Heaven's will
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I think all happiness depends on the energy to assume the mask of some other life, on a re-birth as something not one's self.
William Butler Yeats