I was ever of the opinion, that the honest man who married and brought up a large family, did more service than he who continued single, and only talked of population.
I always believed that whatever had to be written would somehow get itself written.
I do think culture is an argument, and that was part of the way I was brought up. People at a social occasion in Ireland will start shouting and arguing. When the Yeats family lived in Bedford Park, they had to go round to the neighbours to say, ‘You might think we are fighting, but this is the way we talk to each other.’
And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers is always the first to be touch’d by the thorns.
Wisdom denotes the pursuing of the best ends by the best means.
Come away, O human child: To the waters and the wild with a fairy, hand in hand, For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.
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.
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.
I have raised the morals and sobriety of the people.
I’ve always associated the moment of writing with a moment of lift, of joy, of unexpected reward.