Quote

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

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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
Seemed
Finished
Wine
Soon
Imagination
Tasting
Peace
Giver
Even
Cups
Love
Bed

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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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I think all happiness depends on the energy to assume the mask of some other life, on a re-birth as something not one's self.
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One should not lose one's temper unless one is certain of getting more and more angry to the end.
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I have drunk ale from the Country of the Young / And weep because I know all things now.
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Speech after long silence it is right, All other lovers being estranged or dead . . . That we descant and yet again descant Upon the supreme theme of Art and Song: Bodily decrepitude is wisdom young We loved each other and were ignorant.
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Test every work of intellect or faith and everything that your own hands have wrought.
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The soul of man is of the imperishable substance of the stars!
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If what I say resonates with you, it's merely because we're branches of the same tree.
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What can be explained is not poetry.
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If there's no hatred in a mind Assault and battery of the wind Can never tear the linnet from the leaf
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He only can create the greatest imaginable beauty who has endured all imaginable pangs, for only when we have seen and foreseen what we dread shall we be rewarded by that dazzling unforeseen wing-footed wanderer.
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My wretched dragon is perplexed.
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I dreamed that I stood in a valley, and amid sighs, For happy lovers passed two by two where I stood And I dreamed my lost love came stealthily out of the wood With her cloud-pale eyelids falling on dream-dimmed eyes.
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We are closed in, and the key is turned / On our uncertainty.
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Everything exists, everything is true and the earth is just a bit of dust beneath our feet.
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An intellectual hatred is the worst.
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I hear it in the deep heart's core.
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Fairies in Ireland are sometimes as big as we are, sometimes bigger, and sometimes, as I have been told, about three feet high.
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People who lean on logic and philosophy and rational exposition end by starving the best part of the mind.
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