William Butler Yeats | great
The creations of a great writer are little more than the moods and passions of his own heart, given surnames and Christian names, and sent to walk the earth.
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William Butler Yeats
William Butler Yeats | great
Out of Ireland have we come, great hatred, little room, maimed us at the start. I carry from my mother’s womb a fanatic heart.
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William Butler Yeats | god
The years like great black oxen tread the world, and God, the herdsman goads them on behind, and I am broken by their passing feet.
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William Butler Yeats | god
You know what the Englishman’s idea of compromise is? He says, Some people say there is a God. Some people say there is no God. The truth probably lies somewhere between these two statements.
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William Butler Yeats | dreams
But I, being poor, have only my dreams I have spread my dreams under your feet Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
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