William Wordsworth Quotes
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In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts bring sad thoughts to the mind.
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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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Great is the glory, for the strife is hard!
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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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Prompt to move but firm to wait - knowing things rashly sought are rarely found.
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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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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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As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.
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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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His love was like the liberal air, embracing all, to cheer and bless.
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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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Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room; And hermits are contented with their cells.
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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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Recognizes ever and anon The breeze of Nature stirring in his soul.
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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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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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A famous man is Robin Hood, The English ballad-singer's joy.
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Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.
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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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A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable.
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The mind that is wise mourns less for what age takes away; than what it leaves behind.
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The education of circumstances is superior to that of tuition.