If a poet interprets a poem of his own he limits its suggestibility.
William Butler YeatsRead
The Irishman sustains himself during brief periods of joy by the knowledge that tragedy is just around the corner.
Interpretation
This quote highlights the balance between joy and sorrow in life, suggesting that happiness is often fleeting amidst inevitable challenges.
William Butler Yeats reflects on the human experience of joy and sorrow in this quote. He suggests that moments of happiness are often tempered by an awareness of the transient nature of joy and the presence of impending tragedy, underscoring the duality of existence where joy and sorrow coexist. It serves as a reminder to appreciate fleeting moments of happiness while being mindful of the inevitable challenges life presents.
In practice
This quote can be used during a speech on how to cope with life's ups and downs.
If a poet interprets a poem of his own he limits its suggestibility.
It was my first meeting with a philosophy that confirmed my vague speculations and seemed at once logical and boundless.
But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
How far away the stars seem, and how far is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart.
For he would be thinking of love Till the stars had run away And the shadows eaten the moon.
Love is created and preserved by intellectual analysis, for we love only that which is unique, and it belongs to contemplation, not to action, for we would not change that which we love.
Life’s never a postcard of life, is it? It never feels like how you’d want it to look.
My life, which seems so simple and monotonous, is really a complicated affair of cafés where they like me and cafés where they don't, streets that are friendly, streets that aren't, rooms where I might be happy, rooms where I shall never be, looking-glasses I look nice in, looking-glasses I don't, dresses that will be lucky, dresses that won't, and so on.
There is nothing in life to take seriously except the joy of life.
And I said, 'That last thing is what you can't get, Carlo. Nobody can get to that last thing. We keep on living in hopes of catching it once and for all.
Life is a journey, not a destination; there are no mistakes, just chances we've taken.
There is an old poor man,. . . . Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger.
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