Jerome. That is a terribly wild thought. I hope you don’t believe all you say. Paul Ruttledge. Perhaps not. I only know that I want to upset everything about me. Have you not noticed that it is a complaint many of us have in this country? and whether it comes from love or hate I don’t know, they are so mixed together here.

— William Butler Yeats

William Butler Yeats Quotes

He who made you bitter made you wise.

— William Butler Yeats

Why should the faithfullest heart most love The bitter sweetness of false faces?

— William Butler Yeats

He was a great teller of tales, and unlike our common romancers, knew how to empty heaven, hell, and purgatory, faeryland and earth, to people his stories.

— William Butler Yeats

Nay, are there not moods which shall find no expression unless there be men who dare to mix heaven, hell, purgatory, and faeryland together, or even to set the heads of beasts to the bodies of men, or to thrust the souls of men into the heart of rocks?

— William Butler Yeats

No woman loves me, no man seeks my help, Because I be not of the things I dream.

— William Butler Yeats

A terrible beauty is born.

— William Butler Yeats

You will forget me soon. Oh dear one, hate me rather than forget.

— William Butler Yeats

And yet the wise are of opinion that wherever man is, the dark powers who would feed his rapacities are there too, no less than the bright beings who store their honey in the cells of his heart, and the twilight beings who flit hither and thither, and that they encompass him with a passionate and melancholy multitude.

— William Butler Yeats

Never leave the door open at this hour, or evil may come to you.

— William Butler Yeats

I would like to have great iron claws, and to put them about the pillars, and to pull and pull till everything fell into pieces. Jerome. I don’t see what good that would do you. Paul Ruttledge. Oh, yes it would. When everything was pulled down we would have more room to get drunk in, to drink contentedly out of the cup of life, out of the drunken cup of life.

— William Butler Yeats

Jerome. That is a terribly wild thought. I hope you don’t believe all you say. Paul Ruttledge. Perhaps not. I only know that I want to upset everything about me. Have you not noticed that it is a complaint many of us have in this country? and whether it comes from love or hate I don’t know, they are so mixed together here.

— William Butler Yeats

I can remember meeting of a Sunday night Charles Whibley, Kenneth Grahame, author of ‘The Golden Age,’ Barry Pain, now a well known novelist, R. A. M. Stevenson, art critic and a famous talker, George Wyndham, later on a cabinet minister and Irish chief secretary, and Oscar Wilde, who was some eight years or ten older than the rest.

— William Butler Yeats

Once he said to me in the height of his imperial propaganda, ‘Tell those young men in Ireland that this great thing must go on. They say Ireland is not fit for self-government but that is nonsense. It is as fit as any other European country but we cannot grant it.

— William Butler Yeats

Nor dread nor hope attend A dying animal; A man awaits his end Dreading and hoping all; Many times he died, Many times rose again. A great man in his pride Confronting murderous men Casts derision upon Supersession of breath; He knows death to the bone – Man has created death.

— William Butler Yeats

I disagreed with him about everything, but I admired him beyond words.

— William Butler Yeats

He was a great teller of tales, and unlike our common romancers, knew how to empty heaven, hell, and purgatory, faeryland and earth, to people his stories. He did not live in a shrunken world, but knew of no less ample circumstance than did Homer himself. Perhaps the Gaelic people shall by his like bring back again the ancient simplicity and amplitude of imagination.

— William Butler Yeats

I sigh that kiss you, For I must own That I shall miss you When you have grown.

— William Butler Yeats

A Drinking Song Wine comes in at the mouth And love comes in at the eye; That’s all we shall know for truth Before we grow old and die. I lift the glass to my mouth, I look at you, and I sigh.

— William Butler Yeats

Everything in this world is eater or eaten, seed is the food, fire is the eater.

— William Butler Yeats

With us nothing has time to gather meaning, and too many things are occurring for even a big heart to hold.

— William Butler Yeats
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