If a poet interprets a poem of his own he limits its suggestibility.
William Butler YeatsRead
An aged man is but a paltry thing, a tattered coat upon a stick
Interpretation
The quote reflects on aging and the loss of vitality and substance over time.
In this quote, William Butler Yeats uses vivid imagery to convey the idea that an elderly person can appear insignificant and worn out, much like a tattered coat draped over a stick. It suggests that as one ages, the richness of life and the vibrancy of youth diminish, leading to feelings of fragility and a loss of identity.
In practice
In a speech about the value of experience and remembering history, this quote serves as a poignant reminder of the passage of time.
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.
A man is ethical only when life, as such, is sacred to him.
A weak understanding of what the Bible says about sin is tied to a weak understanding of what the Bible says is achieved by the cross.
Whenever a man believes that he has the exact truth from God, there is in that man no spirit of compromise. He has not the modesty born of the imperfections of human nature; he has the arrogance of theological certainty and the tyranny born of ignorant assurance. Believing himself to be the slave of God, he imitates his master, and of all tyrants the worst is a slave in power.
Is this the curse of modernity, to live in a world without judgment, without perspective, no context for understanding or distinguishing what is real and what is imagined, what is manipulated and what is by chance beautiful, what is shadow and what is flesh?
I should like to save the Shire, if I could - though there have been times when I thought the inhabitants too stupid and dull for words, and have felt that an earthquake or an invasion of dragons might be good for them. But I don't feel like that now. I feel that as long as the Shire lies behind, safe and comfortable, I shall find wandering more bearable: I shall know that somewhere there is a firm foothold, even if my feet cannot stand there again.
Without holiness on earth we shall never be prepared to enjoy heaven. Heaven is a holy place. The Lord of heaven is a holy Being. The angels are holy creatures. Holiness is written on everything in heaven... How shall we ever be at home and happy in heaven if we die unholy?
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