W. B. Yeats

An aged man is but a paltry thing, a tattered coat upon a stick

W. B. Yeats

And say my glory was I had such friends.

W. B. Yeats

Any fool can fight a winning battle, but it needs character to fight a losing one, and that should inspire us; which reminds me that I dreamed the other night that I was being hanged, but was the life and soul of the party.

W. B. Yeats

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.

W. B. Yeats

Be secret and exult, Because of all things known that is most difficult.

W. B. Yeats

Being Irish, he had an abiding sense of tragedy, which sustained him through temporary periods of joy.

W. B. Yeats

Being young you have not known the fool’s triumph, nor yet love lost as soon as won, nor the best labourer dead and all the sheaves to bind.

W. B. Yeats

Books are but waste paper unless we spend in action the wisdom we get from thought – asleep. When we are weary of the living, we may repair to the dead, who have nothing of peevishness, pride, or design in their conversation.

W. B. Yeats

But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

W. B. Yeats

But Love has pitched his mansion in the place of excrement. For nothing can be sole or whole that has not been rent.

W. B. Yeats