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A mouth that has no moisture and no breath Breathless mouths may summon I hail the superhuman I call it death-in-life and life-in-death.
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
Breaths
Mouth
Moisture
Mouths
Summon
Greatness
Breathless
Call
Superhuman
Death
Hail
May
Humankind
Life
Breath
More quotes by William Butler Yeats
My wretched dragon is perplexed.
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Many ingenious lovely things are gone / That seemed sheer miracle to the multitude.
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Take, if you must, this little bag of dreams, Unloose the cord, and they will wrap you round.
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When we have blamed the wind we can blame love.
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I would that I were an old beggar Rolling a blind pearl eye, For he cannot see my lady Go gallivanting by.
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If suffering brings wisdom, I would wish to be less wise.
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What shall I do for pretty girls Now my old bawd is dead?
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We are closed in, and the key is turned / On our uncertainty.
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The pain others give passes away in their later kindness, but that of our own blunders, especially when they hurt our vanity, never passes away
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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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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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The labor of the alchemists, who were called artist in their day, is a befitting comparison for a deliberate change of style.
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It's certain that fine women eat A crazy salad with their meat.
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I sat, a solitary man, In a crowded London shop, An open book and empty cup On the marble table-top. While on the shop and street I gazed My body of a sudden blazed And twenty minutes more or less It seemed, so great my happiness, That I was blessed and could bless.
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An intellectual hate is the worst.
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The desire that is satisfied is not a great desire, nor has the shoulder used all its might that an unbreakable gate has never strained.
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I, too, await The hour of thy great wind of love and hate. When shall the stars be blown about the sky, Like the sparks blown out of a smithy, and die?
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Love comes in at the eye.
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Dream, dream, for this is also sooth.
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even The bed of love, that in the imagination Had seemed to be the giver of all peace, Is no more than a wine-cup in the tasting, And as soon finished.
William Butler Yeats
