Quote

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.

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
Troubling
Word
Drove
War
Shook
Away
Sat
Cushioned
Heart
Skin
Otter
World
Skins
Otters
Hearts
Seamen
Tumult
Law

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The common breeds the common, A lout begets a lout, So when I take on half a score I knock their heads about.
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Players and painted stage took all my love, And not those things that they were emblems of.
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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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Come swish around my pretty punk And keep me dancing still That I may stay a sober man Although I drink my fill.
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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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Eyes spiritualised by death can judge, I cannot, but I am not content.
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If suffering brings wisdom, I would wish to be less wise.
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I bring you with reverent hands The books of my numberless dreams.
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I would that there was nothing in the world But my beloved that night and day had perished, And all that is and all that is to be, All that is not the meeting of our lips.
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Only God, my dear, Could love you for yourself alone And not your yellow hair.
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Death and life were not Till man made up the whole, Made lock, stock and barrel Out of his bitter soul
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Hope and Memory have one daughter and her name is Art, and she has built her dwelling far from the desperate field where men hang out their garments upon forked boughs to be banners of battle. O beloved daughter of Hope and Memory, be with me for a while.
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There is no deformity But saves us from a dream.
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When you are old and gray and full of sleep, and nodding by the fire, take down this book and slowly read, and dream of the soft look your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep.
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Come near I would, before my time to go, Sing of old Eire and the ancient ways: Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days.
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Everything that man esteems Endures a moment or a day.
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I am still of opinion that only two topics can be of the least interest to a serious and studious mood - sex and the dead.
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My soul had found All happiness in its own cause or ground. Godhead on Godhead in sexual spasm begot Godhead. Some shadow fell. My soul forgot Those amorous cries that out of quiet come And must the common round of day resume.
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Never to have lived is best, ancient writers say. Never to have drawn the breath of life, never to have looked into the eye of day The second best's a gay goodnight and quickly turn away.
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For the good are always the merry, / Save by an evil chance,/ And the merry love the fiddle,/ And the merry love to dance: / And when the folk there spy me,/ They will all come up to me, / With,”Here is the fiddler of Dooney!” / And dance like a wave of the sea.
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