...nothing in them but tittering jeering emptiness.
W.B. YeatsTags: foster journalists yeats
What can be explained is not poetry.
W.B. YeatsAn Irish Airman foresees his Death
I Know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate
Those that I guard I do not love,
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public man, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.
Tags: poem yeats airman william butler
Never give all the heart, for love
Will hardly seem worth thinking of
To passionate women if it seem
Certain, and they never dream
That it fades out from kiss to kiss;
For everything that's lovely is
But a brief, dreamy, kind delight.
O Never give the heart outright,
For they, for all smooth lips can say,
Have given their hearts up to the play.
And who could play it well enough
If deaf and dumb and blind with love?
He that made this knows all the cost,
For he gave all his heart and lost.
Tags: love passion loss play acting yeats heartbreak in-the-seven-woods never-give-all-the-heart w-b-yeats william-butler-yeats
To be the father of growing daughters is to understand something of what Yeats evokes with his imperishable phrase 'terrible beauty.' Nothing can make one so happily exhilarated or so frightened: it's a solid lesson in the limitations of self to realize that your heart is running around inside someone else's body. It also makes me quite astonishingly calm at the thought of death: I know whom I would die to protect and I also understand that nobody but a lugubrious serf can possibly wish for a father who never goes away.
Christopher HitchensTags: god death religion atheism mortality yeats daughters fathers fatherhood
Mad Ireland hurt you into poetry.
W.H. AudenTags: poetry hurt ireland yeats auden
He believes, but he does not believe: the impossibility of believing is the impossibility which he accepts most reluctantly, but still it is there with the other impossibilities of this world which is too full of weeping for a child to understand.
Edmund WilsonThe censorious said she slept in a hammock and understood Yeats's poems, but her family denied both stories.
SakiTags: humor yeats eccentric clovis golden-afternoon saki twentieth-century
I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping...I hear it in the deep heart's core.
W.B. YeatsTags: inspirational yeats poetry-quotes
Romantic Ireland's dead and gone
It's with O' Leary in the grave
(September 1913)
Tags: ireland yeats irish-politics
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