Prompt to move but firm to wait – knowing things rashly sought are rarely found.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTHCome grow old with me. The best is yet to be.
More William Wordsworth Quotes
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But trailing clouds of glory do we come, From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
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The memory of the just survives in Heaven.
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The ocean is a mighty harmonist.
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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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Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
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May books and nature be their early joy!
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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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Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from.
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Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.
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What we have loved Others will love And we will teach them how.
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We have within ourselves Enough to fill the present day with joy, And overspread the future years with hope.
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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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Thought and theory must precede all action, that moves to salutary purposes. Yet action is nobler in itself than either thought or theory.
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Chains tie us down by land and sea; And wishes, vain as mine, may be All that is left to comfort thee.
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The softest breeze to fairest flowers gives birth: Think not that Prudence dwells in dark abodes, She scans the future with the eye of gods.
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Poetry is emotion recollected in tranquillity.
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Type of the wise who soar but never roam, True to the kindred points of heaven and home.
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Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge; it is the impassioned expression which is in the countenance of all Science.
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A tale in everything.
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O joy! that in our embers Is something that doth live, That nature yet remembers What was so fugitive!
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A mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of Thought, alone.
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There is a comfort in the strength of love; ‘Twill make a thing endurable, which else would overset the brain, or break the heart.
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Rest and be thankful.
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But who is innocent? By grace divine, Not otherwise,O Nature! we are thine.
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Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows Like harmony in music; there is a dark Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles Discordant elements, makes them cling together In one society.
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Love betters what is best.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH