That is no country for old men. The young In one another's arms, birds in the trees Those dying generationsat their song, The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas, Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long Whatever is begotten, born, and dies. Caught in that sensual music all neglect Monuments of unaging intellect.
More Quotes from William Butler Yeats:
Supreme art is a traditional statement of certain heroic and religious truth, passed on from age to age, modified by individual genius, but never abandonedWilliam Butler Yeats
Because I am mad about womenI am mad about the hills,Said that wild old wicked manWho travels where God wills. . . .
William Butler Yeats
Whatever flames upon the night Man's own resinous heart has fed.
William Butler Yeats
Unwearied still, lover by lover, They paddle in the cold Companionable streams or climb the air Their hearts have not grown old.
William Butler Yeats
That toil of growing up The ignominy of boyhood the distress Of boyhood changing into man The unfinished man and his pain.
William Butler Yeats
My fiftieth year had come and gone,I sat, a solitary man,In a crowded London shop,And open book and empty cupOn the marble table-top.
William Butler Yeats
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