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This melancholy London. I sometimes imagine that the souls of the lost are compelled to walk through its streets perpetually. One feels them passing like a whiff of air.

— William Butler Yeats

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More quotes by William Butler Yeats

But is there any comfort to be found?
Man is in love and loves what vanishes,
What more is there to say?

The Tower (1928)

O body swayed to music, O brightening glance,
How can we know the dancer from the dance?

The Tower (1928)

The only business of the head in the world is to bow a ceaseless obeisance to the heart.

Too long a sacrifice
Can make a stone of the heart.

Michael Robartes and the Dancer (1921)

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Crossways (1889)

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Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: William Butler Yeats (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.