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And learn that the best thing is To change my loves while dancing And pay but a kiss for a kiss.
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
Learn
Change
Transience
Best
Inconstancy
Thing
Kiss
Kissing
Dancing
Loves
Pay
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Love comes in at the eye.
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I agree about Shaw - he is haunted by the mystery he flouts. He is an atheist who trembles in the haunted corridor.
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I am haunted by numberless islands, many a Danaan shore, Where Time would surely forget us, and Sorrow come near us no moreSoon far from the rose and the lily and fret of the flames would we be, Were we only white birds, my beloved, buoyed out on the foam of the sea!
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Choose your companions from the best Who draws a bucket with the rest soon topples down the hill.
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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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It is one of the great troubles of life that we cannot have any unmixed emotions. There is always something in our enemy that we like, and something in our sweetheart that we dislike.
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The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round, Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound, Our breasts are heaving, our eyes are agleam, Our arms are waving, our lips are apart.
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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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Shakespeare cared little for the State, the source of all our judgments, apart from its shows and splendours, its turmoils and battles, its flamings out of the uncivilized heart.
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What made us dream that he could comb gray hair?
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What can books of men that wive In a dragon-guarded land, Paintings of the dolphin-drawn Sea-nymphs in their pearly wagons Do, but awake a hope to live...?
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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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Nothing that we love overmuch Is ponderable to our touch.
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I sat on cushioned otter-skin: My word was law from Ith to Emain, And shook at Invar Amargin The hearts of the world-troubling seamen, And drove tumult and war away.
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Yet they that know all things but know That all this life can give us is A child's laughter, a woman's kiss.
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I spit into the face of time that has transfigured me
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only an aching heart Conceives a changeless work of art.
William Butler Yeats
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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In the great cities we see so little of the world, we drift into our minority. In the little towns and villages there are no minorities people are not numerous enough. You must see the world there, perforce. Every man is himself a class.
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I bring you with reverent hands The books of my numberless dreams.
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