What did William Butler Yeats mean by: A pity beyond all telling is hid in the heart of love. William Butler Yeats Poet · Ireland Copy
+ And wisdom is a butterflyAnd not a gloomy bird of prey. Author, September 20, 2023January 2, 2025, William Butler Yeats, Perception, Transformation, Wisdom, 0 William Butler Yeats Poet · Ireland
+ Words alone are certain good. Author, August 19, 2023January 2, 2025, William Butler Yeats, Certainty, Communication, Positivity, 0 William Butler Yeats Poet · Ireland
+ Hammer your thoughts into unity. Author, September 6, 2023January 2, 2025, William Butler Yeats, Control, Thoughts, Unity, 0 William Butler Yeats Poet · Ireland
Wine enters through the mouth, Love, the eyes. I raise the glass to my mouth, I look at you, I sigh. Author, January 15, 2024January 9, 2025, William Butler Yeats, Connection, Desire, Longing, 0 William Butler Yeats Poet · Ireland
All that we did, all that we said or sang must come from contact with the soil. Author, January 15, 2024January 9, 2025, William Butler Yeats, Authenticity, Connection, Nature, 0 William Butler Yeats Poet · Ireland
+ only an aching heart Conceives a changeless work of art. Author, August 7, 2023January 2, 2025, William Butler Yeats, Creativity, Longing, Permanence, 0 William Butler Yeats Poet · Ireland
+ Though leaves are many, the root is one. Author, October 18, 2023January 2, 2025, William Butler Yeats, Connection, Diversity, Unity, 0 William Butler Yeats Poet · Ireland
for never yet Has lover lived, but longed to wive Like them that are no more alive. Author, January 15, 2024January 9, 2025, William Butler Yeats, Longing, Love, Mortality, 0 William Butler Yeats Poet · Ireland
I only fear the death of others. For me, true death is that of the people I love Jean Cocteau Artist · France
I’m not willing just to be tolerated. That wounds my love of love and of liberty. Read explanation Jean Cocteau Artist · France
If you cannot learn to love real art, at least learn to hate sham art and reject it. William Morris Designer · England
It is no more in our power to love always than it was not to love at all. Read explanation Jean de la Bruyere Writer · France
