Quotes William Butler Yeats

Find dozens of William Butler Yeats with images to copy and share.

There are no strangers here; Only friends you haven\'t yet met.
There are no strangers here; Only friends you haven't yet met.
Think as a wise man but communicate in the language of the people.
No man has ever lived that had enough of children's gratitude or woman's love.
Out of Ireland have we come, great hatred, little room, maimed us at the start. I carry from my mother's womb a fanatic heart.
You may also like
I am of a healthy long lived race, and our minds improve with age.
Supreme art is a traditional statement of certain heroic and religious truth, passed on from age to age, modified by individual genius, but never abandoned.
I carry from my mother's womb a fanatic's heart.
My father upon the Abbey stage, before him a raging crowd. "This Land of Saints," and then as the applause died out, "Of plaster Saints;" his beautiful mischievous head thrown back.
I have nothing but the embittered sun; Banished heroic mother moon and vanished, And now that I have come to fifty years I must endure the timid sun.
Both nuns and mothers worship images,
But those the candles light are not as those
That animate a mother\'s reveries,
But keep a marble or a bronze repose.
Both nuns and mothers worship images, But those the candles light are not as those That animate a mother's reveries, But keep a marble or a bronze repose.
I--love's skein upon the ground, My body in the tomb-- Shall leap into the light lost In my mother's womb.
O heart the winds have shaken, the unappeasable host Is comelier than candles at Mother Mary's feet.
Being Irish, he had an abiding sense of tragedy, which sustained him through temporary periods of joy.
I rise in the dawn, and I kneel and blow Till the seed of the fire flicker and glow; And then I must scrub and bake and sweep Till the stars are beginning to blink and peep; And the young lie long and dream in their bed.
Do not wait to strike till the iron is hot; but make it hot by striking.
Think where man's glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends.
I know that I shall meet my fate somewhere among the clouds above; those that I fight I do not hate, those that I guard I do not love.
Our own acts are isolated and one act does not buy absolution for another.
You may also like
Art bids us touch and taste and hear and see the world, and shrinks from what Blake calls mathematic form, from every abstract form, from all that is of the brain only.
Art bids us touch and taste and hear and see the world, and shrinks from what Blake calls mathematic form, from every abstract form, from all that is of the brain only.
It seems that I must bid the Muse to pack, / Choose Plato and Plotinus for a friend / Until imagination, ear and eye, / Can be content with argument and deal / In abstract things; or be derided by / A sort of battered kettle at the heel.