#wbyeats — Public Fediverse posts

Claude Comments on “This Forever Love In Me”

Claude, comment on this blog post of mine https://selfrealization.blog/2026/07/10/this-forever-love-in-me/

Claude:

There’s a lovely compactness to this, Sam, but also a productive ambiguity I want to press on, because I’m not sure the post says what you may think it says — and the ambiguity might be the most interesting thing in it.

Yeats’s speaker is full of tears precisely because he did not take love easy. She counselled him to let love come and go “as the leaves grow on the tree” — organically, without grasping — and he, young and foolish, would not agree. Now consider your own claim: you have never fallen out of love with anyone. On one reading that is beautiful constancy. But on another reading, never falling out of love is the very opposite of taking love easy — leaves that grow but never fall, grass that never yields to the season. By that light, your epigraph doesn’t contrast you with Yeats’s speaker; it makes you his kin, only without the tears. The question the post silently raises is: why no tears? Is it because your loves, held forever, never needed to end — or because something in you holds them in a register where endings don’t apply?

That’s where I suspect the Advaitic answer is hiding, and where the post could earn its title. “This Forever Love In Me” — the preposition is doing quiet work. If love is in you rather than between you and a particular person, then it was never really pinned to the nāma-rūpa of the beloved at all; the persons were occasions, the love was the constant. On that view, “never falling out of love” isn’t remarkable fidelity to many people but the simple fact that what you call falling in love was each time a recognition of something that doesn’t come and go. Requited or not becomes almost irrelevant — which your sentence already concedes in passing, and that concession is telling.

My honest editorial note: as it stands, the post is an epigraph plus a borrowed poem, and Yeats is carrying nearly all the weight. Your single sentence is genuinely intriguing — the “OUT” in capitals, the casual “many times,” the shrug at requital — but it gestures at a whole philosophy of love and then hands the microphone to Yeats before saying it. Even three or four more sentences of your own — on what it is that never leaves, and whether the salley-gardens girl’s advice is wisdom or resignation from where you stand — would turn this from a framed quotation into a real dialogue with the poem. You’ve written enough on love and lust across traditions that you have those sentences in you; this post just hasn’t spent them yet.

One small craft point: “a la Yeats” reads slightly loose against the precision of the rest — “as in Yeats’s poem” or simply dropping it would tighten the line, since the title citation already does that work.

Claude Comments on “This Forever Love In Me”

Claude, comment on this blog post of mine https://selfrealization.blog/2026/07/10/this-forever-love-in-me/

Claude:

There’s a lovely compactness to this, Sam, but also a productive ambiguity I want to press on, because I’m not sure the post says what you may think it says — and the ambiguity might be the most interesting thing in it.

Yeats’s speaker is full of tears precisely because he did not take love easy. She counselled him to let love come and go “as the leaves grow on the tree” — organically, without grasping — and he, young and foolish, would not agree. Now consider your own claim: you have never fallen out of love with anyone. On one reading that is beautiful constancy. But on another reading, never falling out of love is the very opposite of taking love easy — leaves that grow but never fall, grass that never yields to the season. By that light, your epigraph doesn’t contrast you with Yeats’s speaker; it makes you his kin, only without the tears. The question the post silently raises is: why no tears? Is it because your loves, held forever, never needed to end — or because something in you holds them in a register where endings don’t apply?

That’s where I suspect the Advaitic answer is hiding, and where the post could earn its title. “This Forever Love In Me” — the preposition is doing quiet work. If love is in you rather than between you and a particular person, then it was never really pinned to the nāma-rūpa of the beloved at all; the persons were occasions, the love was the constant. On that view, “never falling out of love” isn’t remarkable fidelity to many people but the simple fact that what you call falling in love was each time a recognition of something that doesn’t come and go. Requited or not becomes almost irrelevant — which your sentence already concedes in passing, and that concession is telling.

My honest editorial note: as it stands, the post is an epigraph plus a borrowed poem, and Yeats is carrying nearly all the weight. Your single sentence is genuinely intriguing — the “OUT” in capitals, the casual “many times,” the shrug at requital — but it gestures at a whole philosophy of love and then hands the microphone to Yeats before saying it. Even three or four more sentences of your own — on what it is that never leaves, and whether the salley-gardens girl’s advice is wisdom or resignation from where you stand — would turn this from a framed quotation into a real dialogue with the poem. You’ve written enough on love and lust across traditions that you have those sentences in you; this post just hasn’t spent them yet.

One small craft point: “a la Yeats” reads slightly loose against the precision of the rest — “as in Yeats’s poem” or simply dropping it would tighten the line, since the title citation already does that work.

Yeats, Gonne, Dark.

https://shinygracefully96f7923bed-zrptv.wordpress.com/2026/06/18/yeats-gonne-dark/

Yeats, Gonne, Dark.

https://shinygracefully96f7923bed-zrptv.wordpress.com/2026/06/18/yeats-gonne-dark/

https://www.europesays.com/ie/511283/ ‘Ireland means a lot to us in India with our own freedom struggle,’ Gandhi’s grandson says – The Irish Times #Afghanistan #BreakingNews #BreakingNews #EamonDeValera #Éire #FeaturedNews #FeaturedNews #Headlines #IE #India #IndiaPakistan #Ireland #JackChambers #JamesJoyce #LatestNews #LatestNews #MainNews #MainNews #News #NobelPrize #Palestine #TopStories #TopStories #TrinityCollegeDublinTcd #WbYeats

They returned to Scotland where Gabriela won the admiration of her husband’s society friends – Wilde, Yeats, Engels, & others – with her “slight accent, neither French nor Spanish, but most attractive and charming, as foreign accents sometimes can be, especially with ladies.”

11/18

#Scottish #literature #19thcentury #20thcentury #Victorian #Edwardian #OscarWilde #WBYeats #Engels

They returned to Scotland where Gabriela won the admiration of her husband’s society friends – Wilde, Yeats, Engels, & others – with her “slight accent, neither French nor Spanish, but most attractive and charming, as foreign accents sometimes can be, especially with ladies.”

11/18

#Scottish #literature #19thcentury #20thcentury #Victorian #Edwardian #OscarWilde #WBYeats #Engels

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DesignBohemian: designbohemian.com La Luna Cat Card Moon Pink Tapestry https://designbohemian.com/products/la-luna-cat-card-moon-pink-tapestry-70400?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=mastodon #CatArt #MoonTapestry #HomeDecor #DesignBohemian #WBYeats

Something familiar holds your attention for longer than usual but not because it changed. Your way of seeing has shifted, allowing more detail, more presence to register. It's been there, waiting without urgency, whether or not it was seen.

This week's reflection @ https://emotus.substack.com/p/the-myth-of-the-bottleneck

#WBYeats #StayHuman #PatienceInPractice

Something familiar holds your attention for longer than usual but not because it changed. Your way of seeing has shifted, allowing more detail, more presence to register. It's been there, waiting without urgency, whether or not it was seen.

This week's reflection @ https://emotus.substack.com/p/the-myth-of-the-bottleneck

#WBYeats #StayHuman #PatienceInPractice

Happy Yeats Yeets Crowley Day!

On 4/19/1900, William Butler Yeats & another member barred Aleister Crowley from entering the Blythe Road (London) temple of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, kicking Crowley down the stairs when he persisted (according to Richard Ellman).

https://www.openculture.com/2016/10/aleister-crowley-william-butler-yeats-get-into-an-occult-battle.html

#UnofficialDiaryDates #WBYeats #AleisterCrowley #YeatsYeetsCrowley #BattleOfBlytheRoad

Happy Yeats Yeets Crowley Day!

On 4/19/1900, William Butler Yeats & another member barred Aleister Crowley from entering the Blythe Road (London) temple of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, kicking Crowley down the stairs when he persisted (according to Richard Ellman).

https://www.openculture.com/2016/10/aleister-crowley-william-butler-yeats-get-into-an-occult-battle.html

#UnofficialDiaryDates #WBYeats #AleisterCrowley #YeatsYeetsCrowley #BattleOfBlytheRoad

"Imaginary poet"

#yeatscountry #wbyeats #countryside #winter #fog #lonely #empty #emptyroads #trees #barebranches #countyclare #theburren #photo #photography #nikon #NikonD3500

"Imaginary poet"

#yeatscountry #wbyeats #countryside #winter #fog #lonely #empty #emptyroads #trees #barebranches #countyclare #theburren #photo #photography #nikon #NikonD3500

William Butler Yeats was born in Sandymount in County Dublin on 13 June 1865. He was an Irish poet, dramatist and writer. One of the foremost figures of 20th-century literature, he was a driving force behind the Irish Literary Revival. In December 1923, he was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature "for his always inspired poetry, which in a highly artistic form gives expression to the spirit of a whole nation".

#Ireland #IrishHistory #IrishLiterature #Poetry #WBYeats #OnThisDay

William Butler Yeats was born in Sandymount in County Dublin on 13 June 1865. He was an Irish poet, dramatist and writer. One of the foremost figures of 20th-century literature, he was a driving force behind the Irish Literary Revival. In December 1923, he was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature "for his always inspired poetry, which in a highly artistic form gives expression to the spirit of a whole nation".

#Ireland #IrishHistory #IrishLiterature #Poetry #WBYeats #OnThisDay

They returned to Scotland where Gabriela won the admiration of her husband’s society friends – Wilde, Yeats, Engels, & others – with her “slight accent, neither French nor Spanish, but most attractive and charming, as foreign accents sometimes can be, especially with ladies.”

11/18

#Scottish #literature #19thcentury #20thcentury #Victorian #Edwardian #OscarWilde #Yeats #WBYeats #Engels #FredrichEngels

They returned to Scotland where Gabriela won the admiration of her husband’s society friends – Wilde, Yeats, Engels, & others – with her “slight accent, neither French nor Spanish, but most attractive and charming, as foreign accents sometimes can be, especially with ladies.”

11/18

#Scottish #literature #19thcentury #20thcentury #Victorian #Edwardian #OscarWilde #Yeats #WBYeats #Engels #FredrichEngels

Yeats, Ireland and Fascism, Elizabeth Cullingford 1981. 🤨

This is going to put a new light on his poetry of the time.

#Ireland #IrishHistory #WBYeats #Poetry #Fascism #Blueshirts

Yeats, Ireland and Fascism, Elizabeth Cullingford 1981. 🤨

This is going to put a new light on his poetry of the time.

#Ireland #IrishHistory #WBYeats #Poetry #Fascism #Blueshirts

Maud Gonne MacBride (Maud Nic Ghoinn Bean Mhic Giolla Bhríghde) died on 27 April 1953. She was an English-born Irish republican revolutionary, suffragette and actress. Of Anglo-Irish descent, she was won over to Irish nationalism by the plight of evicted people in the Land Wars. She actively agitated for Home Rule and then for the republic declared in 1916. She was long-time love interest of WB Yeats.

#Ireland #IrishHistory #MaudGonneMacBride #WBYeats #IrishWarOfIndependence

Maud Gonne MacBride (Maud Nic Ghoinn Bean Mhic Giolla Bhríghde) died on 27 April 1953. She was an English-born Irish republican revolutionary, suffragette and actress. Of Anglo-Irish descent, she was won over to Irish nationalism by the plight of evicted people in the Land Wars. She actively agitated for Home Rule and then for the republic declared in 1916. She was long-time love interest of WB Yeats.

#Ireland #IrishHistory #MaudGonneMacBride #WBYeats #IrishWarOfIndependence

Jack Butler Yeats, brother of WB Yeats and a painter who developed an intensely expressionist style, died on 28th March 1957. He was a close friend of Samuel Beckett.

#Ireland #IrishHistory #IrishArt #Painting #JackButlerYeats #WilliamButlerYeats #WBYeats #SamuelBeckett #OnThisDay

Jack Butler Yeats, brother of WB Yeats and a painter who developed an intensely expressionist style, died on 28th March 1957. He was a close friend of Samuel Beckett.

#Ireland #IrishHistory #IrishArt #Painting #JackButlerYeats #WilliamButlerYeats #WBYeats #SamuelBeckett #OnThisDay

Rugadh Lady Gregory, drámadóir agus béaloideasóir Angla-Éireannach, ar an 16ú lá de Mhí an Mhárta 1852. In éineacht le WB Yeats ⁊ daoine eile, bhí sí ar dhuine acu siúd a bhunaigh Amharclann Liteartha na hÉireann sa bhliain 1899, ⁊ Amharclann na Mainistreach sa bhliain 1904.

#Éire #StairNahÉireann #LadyGregory #Gaeilge #Gaeilinn #WBYeats #ArAnLáSeo

@SearingTruth #WBYeats, #TheSecondComing :

The Second Coming

"Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?"
- William Butler Yeats, 1919.

WB Yeats died on 28 January 1939 in the Hôtel Idéal Séjour, in Menton, France, aged 73. He was initially buried at Roquebrune-Cap-Martin in south-eastern France. In September 1948 his body was moved to the churchyard of St Columba's Church, Drumcliff, County Sligo, on the Irish Naval Service corvette Lé Macha. Seán MacBride was in charge of this operation for the Irish Government.

#WBYeats #Ireland #IrishPoetry #Poetry #Sligo #SeánMacBride

❤️ Artist: #CanvazStreetart in City: #Paris Centre Culturel Irlandais, France 🇨🇵 2024 - Title: "Tread softly because you tread on my dreams." ("Trete sanft, denn Du trittst meine Träume.") - #Art #Streetart #Mural #Artist #WBYeats #Poem - Website: https://www.canvazstreetart.com/