William Wordsworth Quotes
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In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart; And passing even into my purer mind, With tranquil restoration: - feelings, too, Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps, As have no slight or trivial influence On that best portion of a good man's life, His little, nameless, unremembered acts Of kindness and of love.
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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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Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.
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A famous man is Robin Hood, The English ballad-singer's joy.
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Recognizes ever and anon The breeze of Nature stirring in his soul.
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As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.
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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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He who feels contempt for any living thing hath faculties that he hath never used, and thought with him is in its infancy.
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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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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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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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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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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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A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays And confident tomorrows.
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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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Pleasures newly found are sweet When they lie about our feet.
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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!
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There's something in a flying horse, There's something in a huge balloon.
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A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable.
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Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep/ Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind.
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It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the sea: Listen! the mighty being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thundereverlastingly.
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To be young was very heaven!