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Out-worn heart, in a time out-worn, Come clear of the nets of wrong and right Laugh, heart, again in the grey twilight, Sigh, heart, again in the dew of the morn.

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
Come
Twilight
Right
Worn
Heart
Longing
Time
Sadness
Nets
Laugh
Morn
Laughing
Dew
Clear
Sigh
Wrong
Grey

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Art bids us touch and taste and hear and see the world, and shrinks from what Blake calls mathematic form, from every abstract form, from all that is of the brain only.
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The soldier takes pride in saluting his Captain, The devotee proffers a knee to his Lord, Some back a mare thrown from a thoroughbred, Troy backed its Helen, Troy died and adored Great nations blossom above, A slave bows down to a slave.
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When two close kindred meet What better than call a dance?.
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Though leaves are many, the root is one Through all the lying days of my youth I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun Now I may wither into the truth.
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Things fall apart the center cannot hold.
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It seems to me that love, if it is fine, is essentially a discipline.
William Butler Yeats
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rhetoric is will doing the work of imagination.
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Because I helped to wind the clock, I come to hear it strike.
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What shall I do for pretty girls Now my old bawd is dead?
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Now as at all times I can see in the mind's eye, In their stiff, painted clothes, the pale unsatisfied ones Appear and disappear in the blue depth of the sky With all their ancient faces like rain- beaten stones, And all their helms of silver hovering.
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Love is based on inequality as friendship is on equality.
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I pray-for fashion's word is out And prayer comes round again- That I may seem, though I die old, A foolish, passionate man.
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Is it not certain that the Creator yawns in earthquake and thunder and other popular displays, but toils in rounding the delicate spiral of a shell? -Yeats, The Trembling of the Veil
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My wretched dragon is perplexed.
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For such, Being made beautiful overmuch, Consider beauty a sufficient end, Lose natural kindness and maybe The heart-revealing intimacy That chooses right, and never find a friend.
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How but in custom and in ceremony are innocence and beauty born?
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Man can embody truth but he cannot know it.
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Though leaves are many, the root is one.
William Butler Yeats
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Wine comes in at the mouth And love comes in at the eye That's all we shall know for truth Before we grow old and die.
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If a powerful and benevolent spirit has shaped the destiny of this world, we can better discover that destiny from the words that have gathered up the heart's desire of the world, than from historical records, or from speculation, wherein the heart withers.
William Butler Yeats