William Wordsworth Quotes
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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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Come, blessed barrier between day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!
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Be mild, and cleave to gentle things, thy glory and thy happiness be there.
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Recognizes ever and anon The breeze of Nature stirring in his soul.
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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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One in whom persuasion and belief Had ripened into faith, and faith become A passionate intuition.
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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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The streams with softest sound are flowing, The grass you almost hear it growing, You hear it now, if e'er you can.
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As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.
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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?
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Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.
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And he is oft the wisest manWho is not wise at all.
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A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable.
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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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A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays And confident tomorrows.
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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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The light that never was, on sea or land; The consecration, and the Poet's dream.
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The childhood of today is the manhood of tomorrow
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The very flowers are sacred to the poor.
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Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters.
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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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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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The unconquerable pang of despised love.
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For youthful faults ripe virtues shall atone.