If a poet interprets a poem of his own he limits its suggestibility.
William Butler YeatsRead
If what I say resonates with you, it's merely because we're branches of the same tree.
Interpretation
This quote suggests that if you connect with someone's words, it indicates a shared understanding or connection between you.
William Butler Yeats' quote reflects the profound interconnection of human experiences and thoughts. It implies that when someone resonates with another's expression, it is not merely coincidence but rather a recognition of shared roots and fundamental truths that unite us, much like branches stemming from the same tree. This perspective highlights the importance of empathy and understanding in relationships and communication.
In practice
During a motivational speech about empathy and understanding in relationships.
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.
Racism is, among other things, the unearned skepticism of one group of humans joined to the unearned sympathy for another.
Life - the way it really is - is a battle not between Bad and Good but between Bad and Worse.
Violence as a way of achieving racial justice is both impractical and immoral. I am not unmindful of the fact that violence often brings about momentary results. Nations have frequently won their independence in battle. But in spite of temporary victories, violence never brings permanent peace.
There are the stars--doing their old, old crisscross journeys in the sky. Scholars haven't settled the matter yet, but they seem to think there are no living beings out there. Just chalk... or fire. Only this one is straining away, straining away all the time to make something of itself. Strain's so bad that every sixteen hours everybody lies down and gets a rest.
The game of life is a game of boomerangs. Our thoughts, deeds and words return to us sooner or later with astounding accuracy.
And then I felt sad because I realized that once people are broken in certain ways, they can't ever be fixed, and this is something nobody ever tells you when you are young and it never fails to surprise you as you grow older as you see the people in your life break one by one. You wonder when your turn is going to be, or if it's already happened.
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