William Wordsworth Quotes
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May books and nature be their early joy!
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I am already kindly disposed towards you. My friendship it is not in my power to give: this is a gift which no man can make, it is not in our own power: a sound and healthy friendship is the growth of time and circumstance, it will spring up and thrive like a wildflower when these favour, and when they do not, it is in vain to look for it.
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She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love.
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Take the sweet poetry of life away, and what remains behind?
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Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower.
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Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.
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She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and oh The difference to me!
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The eye— it cannot choose but see; we cannot bid the ear be still; our bodies feel, where'er they be, against or with our will.
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The Poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society.
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Sweet Mercy! to the gates of heaven This minstrel lead, his sins forgiven; The rueful conflict, the heart riven With vain endeavour, And memory of Earth's bitter leaven Effaced forever.
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Let Nature be your teacher
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Death is the quiet haven of us all.
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The wealthiest man among us is the best
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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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poetry is the breath and finer spirit of knowledge
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A tale in everything.
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Pleasure is spread through the earth In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find.
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With an eye made quiet by the power of harmony, and the deep power of joy, we see into the life of things.
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in the mind of man, A motion and a spirit, that impels All thinking things, all objects of all thought, And rolls through all things.
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That kill the bloom before its time, And blanch, without the owner's crime, The most resplendent hair.
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When men change swords for ledgers, and desert The student's bower for gold, some fears unnamed I had, my Country--am I to be blamed?
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Whether we be young or old,Our destiny, our being's heart and home,Is with infinitude, and only there;With hope it is, hope that can never die,Effort and expectation, and desire,And something evermore about to be.
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Habit rules the unreflecting herd.
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My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The Child is father of the Man; I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.