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And if joy were not on the earth, There were an end of change and birth, And Earth and Heaven and Hell would die, And in some gloomy barrow lie Folded like a frozen fly.
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
Life
Hell
Like
Dies
Heaven
Barrow
Lying
Folded
Ends
Gloomy
Change
Frozen
Earth
Birth
Would
Joy
More quotes by William Butler Yeats
Myself I must remake.
William Butler Yeats
on the instant clamorous eaves, A climbing moon upon an empty sky, And all that lamentation of the leaves, Could but compose man's image and his cry.
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only an aching heart Conceives a changeless work of art.
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Life moves out of a red flare of dreams Into a common light of common hours, Until old age brings the red flare again.
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The brawling of a sparrow in the eaves The brilliant moon and all the milky sky And all that famous harmony of leaves Had blotted out man's image and his cry.
William Butler Yeats
Because I helped to wind the clock, I come to hear it strike.
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Everything that man esteems Endures a moment or a day. Love's pleasure drives his love away, The painter's brush consumes his dreams.
William Butler Yeats
Too many things are occurring for even a big heart to hold.
William Butler Yeats
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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In life courtesy and self-possession, and in the arts style, are the sensible impressions of the free mind, for both arise out of a deliberate shaping of all things and from never being swept away, whatever the emotion into confusion or dullness.
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A drunkard is a dead man And all dead men are drunk.
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Evil comes to us men of imagination wearing as its mask all the virtues.
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I have found nothing half so good / As my long-planned half solitude, / Where I can sit up half the night / With some friend that has the wit.
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How can we know the dancer from the dance?
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For wisdom is the property of the dead, A something incompatible with life and power, Like everything that has the stain of blood, A property of the living but no stain Can come upon the visage of the moon When it has looked in glory from a cloud.
William Butler Yeats
While on that old grey stone I sat Under the old wind-broken tree, I knew that One is animate, Mankind inanimate phantasy.
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Our words must seem to be inevitable.
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What do we know but that we face one another in this place?
William Butler Yeats
There is no deformity But saves us from a dream.
William Butler Yeats
And when you sigh from kiss to kiss I hear white Beauty sighing, too, For hours when all must fade like dew.
William Butler Yeats
