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Type of the wise who soar but never roam, True to the kindred points of heaven and home.

William Wordsworth

Related Topics

Heaven Home True Wisdom

Bagwalas

Popular Authors

Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

Come grow old with me. The best is yet to be.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Best Growth Myself Old Relationship
Great is the glory, for the strife is hard!
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Glory Greatness Hard
That inward eye/ Which is the bliss of solitude.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Eyes Solitude
Thought and theory must precede all action, that moves to salutary purposes. Yet action is nobler in itself than either thought or theory.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Action Purpose Theory Thinking
But trailing clouds of glory do we come, From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Glory God Heaven Home Ourselves
Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Light Nature Teacher
Poetry is emotion recollected in tranquillity.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Collection Emotion Poetry Tranquility
Let Nature be your teacher.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Nature Teacher Yourself
Often in my way have I stood still, though but a casual passenger, so much I felt the awfulness of life.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Feeling Life Myself
There is creation in the eye.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Creation Eyes
By all means sometimes be alone; salute thyself; see what thy soul doth wear; dare to look in thy chest; and tumble up and down what thou findest there.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Alone See Soul
Great men have been among us; hands that penn’d and tongues that utter’d wisdom.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Greatness Hands Man Wisdom
Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Dance Flower Heart Myself Nature
One daffodil is worth a thousand pleasures, then one is too few.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Flower Oneself Worth
Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And shares the nature of infinity.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Darkness Nature Suffering
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Forget Ourselves Rise Soul

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