William Wordsworth Quotes
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The education of circumstances is superior to that of tuition.
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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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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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There is a comfort in the strength of love; 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else would overset the brain, or break the heart.
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Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive But to be young was very heaven.
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Since thy return, through days and weeks Of hope that grew by stealth, How many wan and faded cheeks Have kindled into health! The Old, by thee revived, have said, 'Another year is ours;' And wayworn Wanderers, poorly fed, Have smiled upon thy flowers.
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I should dread to disfigure the beautiful ideal of the memories of illustrious persons with incongruous features, and to sully the imaginative purity of classical works with gross and trivial recollections.
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Or shipwrecked, kindles on the coast False fires, that others may be lost.
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Burn all the statutes and their shelves: They stir us up against our kind; And worse, against ourselves.
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But who shall parcel out His intellect by geometric rules, Split like a province into round and square?
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The unconquerable pang of despised love.
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And he is oft the wisest manWho is not wise at all.
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Science appears but what in truth she is, Not as our glory and our absolute boast, But as a succedaneum, and a prop To our infirmity.
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There is a luxury in self-dispraise; And inward self-disparagement affords To meditative spleen a grateful feast.
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We murder to dissect.
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A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays And confident tomorrows.
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There's something in a flying horse, There's something in a huge balloon.
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Up! up! my friend, and quit your books, Or surely you 'll grow double! Up! up! my friend, and clear your looks! Why all this toil and trouble?
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How does the Meadow flower its bloom unfold? Because the lovely little flower is free down to its root, and in that freedom bold.
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Come, blessed barrier between day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!
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To be young was very heaven!
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... and we shall find A pleasure in the dimness of the stars.
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Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretch'd in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
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Through primrose tufts, in that green bower, The periwinkle trails its wreath; And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes. The birds around me hopped and played, Their thoughts I cannot measure; But the least motion which they made, It seemed a thrill of pleasure. The budding twigs spread out their fan, To catch the breezy air; And I must think, do all I can That there was pleasure there. If this belief from heaven be sent, If such be Nature's holy plan, Have I not reason to lament What man has made of man?