224 ordspråk av William Butler Yeats
William Butler Yeats
William Butler Yeats föddes den
June 13th 1865 och dog den 28 January
1939 - Nobel Prize for Literature in 1923.
Mer info via Google eller Bing. O love is the crooked thing, There is nobody wise enough To find out all that is in it.
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O what fine thought we had because we thought that the worst rogues and rascals had died out.
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Of conflicts with others we make retorica, of conflicts with ourselves poetry
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Oh, Love is the crooked thing, there is nobody wise enough to find out all that is in it, for he will be thinking about love til the stars run away and the shadows eaten the moon...
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Oh, who could have foretold That the heart grows old?
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Once more the storm is howling, and half hid Under this cradle-hood and coverlid My child sleeps on.
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Once you attempt legislation upon religious grounds, you open the way for every kind of intolerance and religious persecution
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One had a lovely face, and two or three had charm, but charm and face were in vain. Because the mountain grass cannot keep the form where the mountain hare has lain.
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One often hears of a horse that shivers with terror, or of a dog that howls at something a man's eyes cannot see, and men who live primitive lives where instinct does the work of reason are fully conscious of many things that we cannot perceive at all. As life becomes more orderly, more deliberate, the supernatural world sinks farther away.
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One should not lose one's temper unless one is certain of getting more and more angry to the end.
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Only God, my dear, Could love you for yourself alone And not your yellow hair.
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Others because you did not keep That deep-sworn vow have been friends of mine; Yet always when I look death in the face, When I clamber to the heights of sleep, Or when I grow excited with wine, Suddenly I meet your face.
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Our stitching and unstitching has been naught.
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Our words must seem to be inevitable.
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Out of Ireland have we come. Great hatred, little room, Maimed us at the start.
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