224 ordspråk av William Butler Yeats
William Butler Yeats
William Butler Yeats föddes den
13 Juni 1865 och dog den 28 Januar
1939 - Nobel Prize for Literature in 1923.
Mer info via Google eller Bing. 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 loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The
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Until the axle break That keeps the stars in their round, And hands hurl in the deep The banners of East and West, And the girdle of light is unbound, Your breast will not lie by the breast Of your beloved in sleep
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We . . . are no petty people. We are of the great stocks of Europe. We are the people of Burke; we are the people of Swift, the people of Emmet, the people of Parnell. We have created most of the modern literature of this country. We have created the best of its political intelligence.
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We are happy when for everything inside us there is a corresponding something outside us.
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we can make our minds so still like water. That beings gather about us to see their own images, and so live for a moment with a clearer perhaps even with a fiercer life because of silence.
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We had fed the heart on fantasies, The heart's grown brutal from the fare.
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We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, but of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry.
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We were the last romantics -- chose for theme Traditional sanctity and loveliness.
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Well, to see rightly is the whole of wisdom, whatever dream be with us.
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What do you think of when alone at night? Do not the things your mothers spoke about, Before they took the candle from the bedside, Rush up into the mind and master it, Till you believe in them against your will?
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What shall I do for pretty girls Now my old bawd is dead?
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When such as I cast out remorse So great a sweetness flows into the breast We must laugh and we must sing, We are blest by everything, Everything we look upon is blest.
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When two close kindred meet What better than call a dance?
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When we are young we long to tread a way none have trod before
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When you are old and gray and full of sleep, and nodding by the fire, take down this book and slowly read, and dream of the soft look your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep.
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