Quote

Let the new faces play what tricks they will In the old rooms night can outbalance day, Our shadows rove the garden gravel still, The living seem more shadowy than they.

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
Seems
Shadow
Still
Garden
Play
Seem
Life
Rooms
Rove
Faces
Shadowy
Living
Gravel
Night
Shadows
Stills
Tricks

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For what but eye and ear silence the mind With the minute particulars of mankind?
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We poets would die of loneliness but for women, and we choose our men friends that we may have somebody to talk about women with. Letter to Olivia Shakespeare, 1936
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Once out of nature I shall never take My bodily form from any natural thing, But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
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A mermaid found a swimming lad, Picked him up for her own, Pressed her body to his body, Laughed and plunging down Forgot in cruel happiness That even lovers drown.
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When all is said and done, how do we know but that our own unreason may be better than another's truth? for it has been warmed on our hearths and in our souls, and is ready for the wild bees of truth to hive in it, and make their sweet honey.
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What shall I do for pretty girls Now my old bawd is dead?
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I spit into the face of time that has transfigured me
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Land of Heart's Desire Where beauty has no ebb, decay no flood, But joy is wisdom, time an endless song.
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I hate journalists. There is nothing in them but tittering jeering emptiness. They have all made what Dante calls the Great Refusal. The shallowest people on the ridge of the earth.
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You think it horrible that lust and rage Should dance attention upon my old age They were not such a plague when I was young What else have I to spur me into song?
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If suffering brings wisdom, I would wish to be less wise.
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Man has created death.
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The light of lights looks always on the motive, not the deed, the shadow of shadows on the deed alone.
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John Synge, I and Augusta Gregory, thought All that we did, all that we said or sang Must come from contact with the soil, from that Contact everything Antaeus-like grew strong.
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While they danced they came over them the weariness with the world, the melancholy, the pity one for the other, which is the exultation of love.
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All empty souls tend toward extreme opinions.
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For men were born to pray and save: Romantic Ireland's dead and gone, It's with O'Leary in the grave.
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I cast my heart into my rhymes, That you, in the dim coming times, May know how my heart went with them After the red-rose-bordered hem.
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I kiss you and kiss you, With arms around my own, Ah, how shall I miss you, When, dear, you have grown.
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THOUGH you are in your shining days, Voices among the crowd And new friends busy with your praise, Be not unkind or proud, But think about old friends the most: Time's bitter flood will rise, Your beauty perish and be lost For all eyes but these eyes.
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