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There where the course is, Delight makes all of the one mind, The riders upon the galloping horses, The crowd that closes in behind.

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
Upon
Excitement
Makes
Crowds
Mind
Delight
Galloping
Horse
Closes
Behinds
Riders
Behind
Horses
Courses
Racing
Course
Crowd

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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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Ecstasy is from the contemplation of things vaster than the individual and imperfectly seen perhaps, by all those that still live.
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Eyes spiritualised by death can judge, I cannot, but I am not content.
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Tread softly, for you tread on my dreams
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How could passion run so deep Had I never thought That the crime of being born Blackens all our lot?
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I hear it in the deep heart's core.
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O heart, we are old The living beauty is for younger men: We cannot pay its tribute of wild tears.
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On the grey rock of Cashel I suddenly saw A Sphinx with woman breast and lion paw, A Buddha, hand at rest, Hand lifted up that blest And right between these two a girl at play That, it may be, had danced her life away.
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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.
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Like a long-legged fly upon the stream / His mind moves upon silence.
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We had fed the heart on fantasies, The heart's grown brutal from the fare, More substance in our enmities Than in our love
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A symbol is indeed the only possible expression of some invisible essence, a transparent lamp about a spiritual flame while allegory is one of many possible representations of an embodied thing, or familiar principle, and belongs to fancy and not to imagination: the one is a revelation, the other an amusement.
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Once more the storm is howling, and half hid Under this cradle-hood and coverlid My child sleeps on.
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And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?
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Talent perceives differences genius, unity.
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Education is not filling
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Great Powers of falling wave and wind and windy fire, With your harmonious choir Encircle her I love and sing her into peace, That my old care may cease.
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One often hears of a horse that shivers with terror, or of a dog that howls at something a mans eyes cannot see, and men who live primitive lives where instinct does the work of reason are fully conscious,of many things we cannot perceive at all. As life becomes more orderly, more deliberate, the supernatural world sinks farther away.
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I Sing what was lost and dread what was won, / I walk in a battle fought over again.
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By logic and reason we die hourly by imagination we live.
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