William Butler Yeats

“Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire.”

“No man has ever lived that had enough of children's gratitude or woman's love.”

“Joy is the will which labours, which overcomes obstacles, which knows triumph.”

“People who lean on logic and philosophy and rational exposition end by starving the best part of the mind.”

“Life is a long preparation for something that never happens.”

“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.”

“Of our conflicts with others we make rhetoric; of our conflicts with ourselves we make poetry.”

“A statesman is an easy man, He tells his lies by rote; A journalist makes up his lies And takes you by the throat; So stay at home and drink your beer And let the neighbours vote.”

“She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree; But I, being young and foolish, with her would not agree.”

“Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half light, I would spread the cloths under...”

“How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true; But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face.”

“To long a sacrifice can make a stone of a heart”

“Wine enters through the mouth, Love, the eyes. I raise the glass to my mouth, I look at you, I sigh.”

“People who lean on logic and philosophy and rational exposition end by starving the best part of the mind.”

“Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.”

“Out of the quarrel with others we make rhetoric; out of the quarrel with ourselves we make poetry.”

“Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loose...”

“I bring you with reverent hands The books of my numberless dreams.”

“Hope and Memory have one daughter and her name is Art, and she has built her dwelling far from the desperate field where men hang out their garments upon forked boughs to be banners of battl...”

“BELOVED, gaze in thine own heart, The holy tree is growing there; From joy the holy branches start, And all the trembling flowers they bear. The changing colours of its fruit Have dowered th...”