Often in my way have I stood still, though but a casual passenger, so much I felt the awfulness of life.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTHWe live by admiration, hope and love.
More William Wordsworth Quotes
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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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The world is too much with us; late and soon, getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours.
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Prompt to move but firm to wait – knowing things rashly sought are rarely found.
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My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard.
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Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.
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All that we behold is full of blessings.
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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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I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o’er vales and hills When all at once I saw a crowd A host of golden daffodils Beside the lake beneath the trees Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
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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.
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Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretch’d in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
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May books and nature be their early joy!
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A famous man is Robin Hood, The English ballad-singer’s joy.
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One daffodil is worth a thousand pleasures, then one is too few.
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A tale in everything.
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In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts bring sad thoughts to the mind.
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There is creation in the eye.
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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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Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence.
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True beauty dwells in deep retreats, Till heart with heart in concord beats, and the lover is beloved.
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The light that never was, on sea or land; The consecration, and the Poet’s dream.
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As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.
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Life is divided into three terms – that which was, which is, and which will be.
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A mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of Thought, alone.
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And we shall find A pleasure in the dimness of the stars.
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The memory of the just survives in Heaven.
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Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And shares the nature of infinity.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH