William Wordsworth Quotes
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Hope smiled when your nativity was cast, Children of Summer!
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We murder to dissect.
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The child is father of the man: And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
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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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I'm not talking about a "show me other walls of this thing" button, I mean a "stumble" button for wallbase.
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A few strong instincts and a few plain rules.
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Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. Not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come.
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Therefore am I still a lover of the meadows and the woods, and mountains; and of all that we behold from this green earth.
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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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"What is good for a bootless bene?" With these dark words begins my tale; And their meaning is, Whence can comfort spring When prayer is of no avail?
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But thou that didst appear so fair To fond imagination, Dost rival in the light of day Her delicate creation.
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And now I see with eye serene, The very pulse of the machine. A being breathing thoughtful breaths, A traveler between life and death.
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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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A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard... Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.
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I have felt a presence that disturbs me with the joy of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime of something far more deeply interfused, whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, and the round ocean, and the living air, and the blue sky, and in the mind of man.
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Life is divided into three terms - that which was, which is, and which will be. Let us learn from the past to profit by the present, and from the present, to live better in the future.
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I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea; Nor England! did I know till then What love I bore to thee.
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But an old age serene and bright, and lovely as a Lapland night, shall lead thee to thy grave.
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Tis said, fantastic ocean doth enfold The likeness of whate'er on land is seen.
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The ocean is a mighty harmonist.
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Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind--But how could I forget thee?
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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.
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Have I not reason to lament What man has made of man?
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He spake of love, such love as spirits feel In worlds whose course is equable and pure; No fears to beat away, no strife to heal,- The past unsighed for, and the future sure.