William Wordsworth Quotes
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Great is the glory, for the strife is hard!
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Prompt to move but firm to wait - knowing things rashly sought are rarely found.
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Every great and original writer, in proportion as he is great and original, must himself create the taste by which he is to be relished.
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Bright was the summer's noon when quickening steps Followed each other till a dreary moor Was crossed, a bare ridge clomb, upon whose top Standing alone, as from a rampart's edge, I overlooked the bed of Windermere, Like a vast river, stretching in the sun.
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The sightless Milton, with his hair Around his placid temples curled; And Shakespeare at his side,-a freight, If clay could think and mind were weight, For him who bore the world!
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The earth was all before me. With a heart Joyous, nor scared at its own liberty, I look about; and should the chosen guide Be nothing better than a wandering cloud, I cannot miss my way.
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As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.
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His love was like the liberal air, embracing all, to cheer and bless.
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A great poet ought to a certain degree to rectify men's feelings... to render their feelings more sane, pure and permanent, in short, more consonant to Nature.
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Rapine, avarice, expense, This is idolatry; and these we adore; Plain living and high thinking are no more.
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Write to me frequently & the longest letters possible; never mind whether you have facts or no to communicate; fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.
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On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life, Musing in solitude, I oft perceive Fair trains of images before me rise, Accompanied by feelings of delight Pure, or with no unpleasing sadness mixed.
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Two voices are there: one is of the deep; It learns the storm-cloud's thunderous melody, Now roars, now murmurs with the changing sea, Now bird-like pipes, now closes soft in sleep: And one is of an old half-witted sheep Which bleats articulate monotony, And indicates that two and one are three, That grass is green, lakes damp, and mountains steep And, Wordsworth, both are thine.
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One in whom persuasion and belief Had ripened into faith, and faith become A passionate intuition.
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Recognizes ever and anon The breeze of Nature stirring in his soul.
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Oh there is blessing in this gentle breeze, A visitant that while it fans my cheek Doth seem half-conscious of the joy it brings From the green fields, and from yon azure sky. Whate'er its mission, the soft breeze can come To none more grateful than to me; escaped From the vast city, where I long had pined A discontented sojourner: now free, Free as a bird to settle where I will.
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Oft in my way have I stood still, though but a casual passenger, so much I felt the awfulness of life.
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Happier of happy though I be, like them I cannot take possession of the sky, mount with a thoughtless impulse, and wheel there, one of a mighty multitude whose way and motion is a harmony and dance magnificent.
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True beauty dwells in deep retreats, Whose veil is unremoved Till heart with heart in concord beats, And the lover is beloved.
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And suddenly all your troubles melt away, all your worries are gone, and it is for no reason other than the look in your partner's eyes. Yes, sometimes life and love really is that simple.
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The education of circumstances is superior to that of tuition.
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Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.
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I listened, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.
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A famous man is Robin Hood, The English ballad-singer's joy.