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And he is oft the wisest manWho is not wise at all.
William Wordsworth -
There's something in a flying horse, There's something in a huge balloon.
William Wordsworth
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There is a luxury in self-dispraise; And inward self-disparagement affords To meditative spleen a grateful feast.
William Wordsworth -
A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays And confident tomorrows.
William Wordsworth -
The Rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the Rose.
William Wordsworth -
To character and success, two things, contradictory as they may seem, must go together... humble dependence on God and manly reliance on self.
William Wordsworth -
'Tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes!
William Wordsworth -
The light that never was, on sea or land; The consecration, and the Poet's dream.
William Wordsworth
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To me the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
William Wordsworth -
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?
William Wordsworth -
A multitude of causes unknown to former times are now acting with a combined force to blunt the discriminating powers of the mind, and unfitting it for all voluntary exertion to reduce it to a state of almost savage torpor.
William Wordsworth -
But to a higher mark than song can reach, Rose this pure eloquence.
William Wordsworth -
Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep/ Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind.
William Wordsworth -
Hope smiled when your nativity was cast, Children of Summer!
William Wordsworth
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Sweet is the lore which Nature brings; Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things We murder to dissect. Enough of Science and of Art; Close up these barren leaves; Come forth, and bring with you a heart That watches and receives.
William Wordsworth -
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns.
William Wordsworth -
The ocean is a mighty harmonist.
William Wordsworth -
The gods approve The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul.
William Wordsworth -
The wind, a sightless laborer, whistles at his task.
William Wordsworth -
These hoards of wealth you can unlock at will.
William Wordsworth
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Not in Utopia, -- subterranean fields, --Or some secreted island, Heaven knows whereBut in the very world, which is the worldOf all of us, -- the place where in the endWe find our happiness, or not at all
William Wordsworth -
One solace yet remains for us who came Into this world in days when story lacked Severe research, that in our hearts we know How, for exciting youth's heroic flame, Assent is power, belief the soul of fact.
William Wordsworth -
The oldest man he seemed that ever wore grey hairs.
William Wordsworth -
But thou that didst appear so fair To fond imagination, Dost rival in the light of day Her delicate creation.
William Wordsworth