Quotes from W.B. Yeats

O DO NOT LOVE TOO LONG by: William Butler Yeats (1865-1939) WEETHEART, do not love too long: I loved long and long, And grew to be out of fashion Like an old song. All through the years of our youth Neither could have known Their own thought from the other's, We were so much at one. But O, in a minute she changed-- O do not love too long, Or you will grow out of fashion Like an old song.

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.

Zira güzellik bu dünyaya ait olmad???n? bilelim diye bizim aylakl?k ettiÄŸimiz yerde sürer üzünç dolu hayat?n?.

I have to thank Messrs. Macmillan, and the editors of Belgravia, All the Year Round, and Monthly Packet, for leave to quote from Patrick Kennedy's Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts, and Miss Maclintock's articles respectively; Lady Wilde, for leave to give what I would from her Ancient Legends of Ireland (Ward & Downey); and Mr. Douglas Hyde, for his three unpublished stories

And when through all the town there ran The servants of Your enemy, A woman and a man, Unless the Holy Writings lie, Hurried through the smooth and rough And through the fertile and waste, protecting, till the danger past, With human love.

Go your ways, O go your ways I choose another mark, Girls down on the seashore Who understand the dark

Hurrah for revolution and cannon come again, The beggars have changed places but the lash goes on.

O you are wild for love of me And I with love am wild

Bodily decrepitude is wisdom

For that pale breast and lingering hand Come from a more dream-heavy land, A more dream-heavy hour than this; And when you sigh from kiss to kiss I hear white Beauty sighing, too, For hours when all must fade like dew.

It is very near us that country is, it is on every side; it may be on the bare hill behind it is, or it may be in the heart of the wood.

May it not even be that death shall unite us to all romance, and that some day we shall fight dragons among blue hills, or come to that whereof all romance is but "Foreshadowings mingled with the images Of man's misdeeds in greater days than these"

It was at the moment of the fall of day when every man may pass as handsome and every woman as comely.

When such as I cast out remorse So great a sweetness flows into the breast We must laugh and we must sing, We are blest by everything, Everything we look upon is blest.

To me the supreme aim (of "arranging" one's ideas and writing poetry) is an act of faith and reason to make one rejoice in the midst of tragedy.

Innisfree... I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings.

When I was growing up, my mother taught me the language of birds; and when I got married, I used to be listening to their conversation; and I would be laughing; and my wife would be asking what was the reason of my laughing, but I did not like to tell her

I hail the superhuman; I call it death-in-life and life-in-death. [...] At midnight on the Emperor's pavement flit Flames that no faggot feeds, nor steel has lit, Nor storm disturbs, flames begotten of flame, Where blood-begotten spirits come And all complexities of fury leave, Dying into a dance, An agony of trance, An agony of flame that cannot singe a sleeve.

The troop dismounted near a window, and Jamie saw a beautiful face, on a pillow in a splendid bed. He saw the young lady lifted and carried away, while the stick which was dropped in her place on the bed took her exact form.

For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, ... The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity.

An old man plays the bagpipes In a gold and silver wood; Queens, their eyes blue like the ice, Are dancing in a crowd.

I turn away and shut the door, and on the stair Wonder how many times I could have proved my worth In something that all others understand or share; But O! ambitious heart, had such a proof drawn forth A company of friends, a conscience set at ease, It had but made us pine the more. The abstract joy, The half-read wisdom of daemonic images, Suffice the ageing man as once the growing boy.

If they had not been rapacious, lustful, narrow and persecuting beyond the people of their time, the incarnation had been impossible; but it was an intellectual impulse from the Condition of Fire that shaped their antithetical self into that of the classic world.