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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
Thing
Kiss
Kissing
Dancing
Loves
Pay
Learn
Change
Transience
Best
Inconstancy
More quotes by William Butler Yeats
We have lit upon the gentle, sensitive mind And lost the old nonchalance of the hand Whether we have chosen chisel, pen or brush, We are but critics, or but half create.
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Come let us mock at the good That fancied goodness might be gay, And sick of solitude Might proclaim a holiday: Wind shrieked and where are they?
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Life is a long preparation for something that never happens.
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Everything in nature is resurrection.
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For Death who takes what man would keep, Leaves what man would lose.
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Where the world ends The mind is made unchanging, for it finds Miracle, ecstasy, the impossible hope, The flagstone under all, the fire of fires, The roots of the world.
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Only the wasteful virtues earn the sun.
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We are fastened to a dying animal.
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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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As man, as beast, as an ephemeral fly begets, Godhead begets Godhead, For things below are copies, the Great Smaragdine Tablet said. Yet all must copy copies, all increase their kind.
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Talent perceives differences genius, unity.
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When an immortal passion breathes in mortal clay Our hearts endure the scourge, the plaited thorns, the way Crowded with bitter faces, the wounds in palm and side, The vinegar-heavy sponge, the flowers by Kedron stream.
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The fascination of what's difficult Has dried the sap out of my veins, and rent Spontaneous joy and natural content Out of my heart.
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We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, but of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry.
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A passion-driven exultant man sings out Sentences that he has never thought.
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The soul of man is of the imperishable substance of the stars!
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We are happy when for everything inside us there is a corresponding something outside us.
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But boys and girls, pale from the imagined love Of solitary beds, knew what they were, That passion could bring character enough And pressed at midnighht in some public place Live lips upon a plummet-measured face.
William Butler Yeats
Between extremities Man runs his course A brand, or flaming breath, Comes to destroy All those antinomies Of day and night.
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By logic and reason we die hourly by imagination we live.
William Butler Yeats