William Butler Yeats
Ireland
13 Jun 1865 // 28 Jan 1939
Poet
13 Jun 1865 // 28 Jan 1939
Poet
Quotes
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Too long a sacrifice
Can make a stone of the heart.
O when may it suffice?
Can make a stone of the heart.
O when may it suffice?
Michael Robartes and the Dancer , 1921. Easter 1916
Only God, my dear,
Could love you for yourself alone
And not your yellow hair.
Could love you for yourself alone
And not your yellow hair.
The Winding Stair and Other Poems, 1933. For Anne Gregory
No man has ever lived that had enough
Of children's gratitude or woman's love.
Of children's gratitude or woman's love.
The Winding Stair and Other Poems, 1933. Vacillation
It's certain there is no fine thing
Since Adam's fall but needs much laboring.
Since Adam's fall but needs much laboring.
In the Seven Woods, 1904. Adam's Curse
I heard the old, old men say
'All that's beautiful drifts away
Like the waters.'
'All that's beautiful drifts away
Like the waters.'
In the Seven Woods, 1904. The Old Men Admiring Themselves in the Water
And God stands winding His lonely horn,
And time and the world are ever in flight.
And time and the world are ever in flight.
The Wind Among the Reeds, 1899, Into the Twilight
Think where man's glory most begins and ends,
And say my glory was I had such friends.
And say my glory was I had such friends.
Last Poems, 1936-1939, The Municipal Gallery Revisited
Think where man's glory most begins and ends,
And say my glory was I had such friends.
And say my glory was I had such friends.
O heart! O heart! if she'd but turn her head
You'd know the folly of being comforted.
You'd know the folly of being comforted.
In the Seven Woods, 1904. The Folly of Being Comforted
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On Anger: "For every minute you remain angry, you give up sixty seconds of peace of mind."
Essays
Essays
On Destiny: "Our destiny exercises its influence over us even when, as yet, we have not learned its nature: it is our future that lays down the law of our today."
Human, All Too Human
Human, All Too Human
On Friendship: "A crowd is not company; and faces are but a gallery of pictures; and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love."
Essays
Essays