Zitate von William Butler Yeats
Ein bekanntes Zitat von William Butler Yeats:
Wir, die wir alt sind, alt und grau.
Informationen über William Butler Yeats
Lyriker, Dramatiker, Nobelpreis für Literatur/1923 (Irland, 1865 - 1939).
William Butler Yeats · Geburtsdatum · Sterbedatum
William Butler Yeats wäre heute 158 Jahre, 10 Monate, 13 Tage oder 58.026 Tage alt.
Geboren am 13.06.1865 in Sandymount/Dublin
Gestorben am 28.01.1939 in Rouquebrune-Cap-Martin (Frankreich)
Sternzeichen: ♊ Zwillinge
Unbekannt
Weitere 80 Zitate von William Butler Yeats
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The innocent and the beautiful / Have no enemy but time.
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The intellect of man is forced to choose / Perfection of the life, or of the work.
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The Light of Lights looks always on the motive, not the deed, the Shadow of the Shadows on the deed alone.
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The pain that others give passes away in their later kindness, but that of our own blunders, especially when they hurt our vanity, never passes away.
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The silver apples of the moon, the golden apples of the sun.
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The wind blows out of the gates of the day, / The wind blows over the lonely of heart, / And the lonely of heart is withered away.
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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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The years to come seemed waste of breath, A waste of breath the years behind.
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There's more enterprise / In walking naked.
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Things fall apart; the center cannot hold; / Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.
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Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; / Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, / The blood-dimmed is loosed, and everywhere / The ceremony of innocence is drowned; / The best lack all conviction, while the worst / Are full of passionate intensity.
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Think where man's glory most begins and ends / And say my glory was I had such friends.
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Too long a sacrifice / Can make a stone of the heart.
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We had fed the heart of fantasies, / The heart's grown brutal from the fare.
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We make out 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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We who are old, old and gray.
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When shall the stars be blown about the sky, / Like the sparks blown out of a smithy, and die?
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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 . . . / 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.
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When you are old and grey 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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