If a poet interprets a poem of his own he limits its suggestibility.
William Butler YeatsRead
It seems to me that love, if it is fine, is essentially a discipline.
Interpretation
What this quote means
True love requires commitment and effort, much like a discipline.
William Butler Yeats suggests that love, when it is genuine and profound, necessitates a level of dedication and practice, similar to how one would approach a discipline like a skill or art. This view emphasizes that love is not merely an emotion but an ongoing commitment that requires work and support to flourish.
Themes
LoveDisciplineCommitmentDedicationEmotion
In practice
Example use cases
This quote would be perfect in a wedding speech to highlight the importance of commitment in relationships.
More from William Butler Yeats
All quotes βIt was my first meeting with a philosophy that confirmed my vague speculations and seemed at once logical and boundless.
William Butler YeatsRead
But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
William Butler YeatsRead
How far away the stars seem, and how far is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart.
William Butler YeatsRead
For he would be thinking of love Till the stars had run away And the shadows eaten the moon.
William Butler YeatsRead
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.
William Butler YeatsRead
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THIS TORTURE Why should we tell you our love stories when you spill them together like blood in the dirt? Love is a pearl lost on the ocean floor, or a fire we canβt see, but how does saying that push us through the top of the head into the light above the head? Love is not an iron pot, so this boiling energy wonβt help. Soul, heart, self. Beyond and within those is one saying, How long before Iβm free of this torture!
RumiRead
All of us know, whether or not we are able to admit it, that mirrors can only lie, that death by drowning is all that awaits one there. It is for this reason that love is so desperately sought and so cunningly avoided. Love takes off the masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.
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To love! To surrender absolutely, to prostrate oneself before the divine image, to die a thousand imaginary deaths, to annihilate every trace of self, to find the whole universe embodied and enshrined in the living image of another! Adolescent, we say. Rot! This is the germ of the future life, the seed which we hide away, which we bury deep within us, which we smother and stifle and do our utmost to destroy as we advance from one experience to another and flutter and flounder and lose our way.
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If God wishes to reveal the love that he harbors for the world, this love has to be something that the world can recognize, in spite of, or in fact in, its being wholly other.
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Women were like rivers, their banks were unreachable, the night often rang with the cries of the drowned.
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Yes! He knew how she would love. He had not loved her without gaining that instinctive knowledge of what capabilities were in her. Her soul would walk in glorious sunlight if any man was worthy, by his power of loving, to win back her love.
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