William Wordsworth Quotes
-
A famous man is Robin Hood, The English ballad-singer's joy.
-
Come, blessed barrier between day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!
-
Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.
-
One in whom persuasion and belief Had ripened into faith, and faith become A passionate intuition.
-
The mind that is wise mourns less for what age takes away; than what it leaves behind.
-
Oft in my way have I stood still, though but a casual passenger, so much I felt the awfulness of life.
-
Recognizes ever and anon The breeze of Nature stirring in his soul.
-
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.
-
As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.
-
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?
-
The streams with softest sound are flowing, The grass you almost hear it growing, You hear it now, if e'er you can.
-
And he is oft the wisest manWho is not wise at all.
-
A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays And confident tomorrows.
-
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.
-
He who feels contempt for any living thing hath faculties that he hath never used, and thought with him is in its infancy.
-
The unconquerable pang of despised love.
-
A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable.
-
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?
-
Give unto me, made lowly wise, The spirit of self-sacrifice; The confidence of reason give, And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live!
-
The very flowers are sacred to the poor.
-
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.
-
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.
-
The childhood of today is the manhood of tomorrow
-
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.