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All that I have said and done, Now that I am old and ill, Turns into a question till I lie awake night after night And never get the answers right.

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
Night
Questioning
Done
Ill
Right
Awake
Never
Till
Question
Answers
Lying
Turns
Recollection

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Time can but make her beauty over again.
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The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.
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... What matter, so there is but fire In you, in me?
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Beloved, let your eyes half close, and your heart beat Over my heart, and your hair fall over my breast, Drowning love's lonely hour in deep twilight of rest.
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Locke sank into a swoon The Garden died God took the spinning-jenny Out of his side.
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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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I bear a burden that might well try Men that do all by rule, And what can I That am a wandering-witted fool But pray to God that He ease My great responsibilities?
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What made us dream that he could comb gray hair?
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If soul my look and body touch, Which is the more blest?
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When I play on my fiddle in Dooney Folk dance like a wave on the sea.
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The soul of man is of the imperishable substance of the stars!
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When a man grows old his joy Grows more deep day after day, His empty heart is full at length But he has need of all that strength Because of the increasing Night That opens her mystery and fright.
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I believe... that our memories are part of one great memory, the memory of Nature herself.
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I broke my heart in two So hard I struck. What matter? for I know That out of rock, Out of a desolate source, Love leaps upon its course.
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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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Test every work of intellect or faith and everything that your own hands have wrought.
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Everything that's lovely is But a brief, dreamy kind of delight.
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Come Fairies, take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame!
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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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And I will find some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,/ Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings.
William Butler Yeats