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 WORDSWORTHMy 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.
More William Wordsworth Quotes
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Be mild, and cleave to gentle things, thy glory and thy happiness be there.
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The memory of the just survives in Heaven.
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Wisdom is oftentimes nearer when we stoop than when we soar.
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Poetry is the first and last of all knowledge – it is as immortal as the heart of man.
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Type of the wise who soar but never roam, True to the kindred points of heaven and home.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH -
Come grow old with me. The best is yet to be.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH -
A few strong instincts and a few plain rules.
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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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Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher.
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The ocean is a mighty harmonist.
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How does the Meadow flower its bloom unfold? Because the lovely little flower is free down to its root, and in that freedom bold.
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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.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH -
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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To character and success, two things, contradictory as they may seem, must go together. Humble dependence on God and manly reliance on self.
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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 light that never was, on sea or land; The consecration, and the Poet’s dream.
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Strongest minds are often those whom the noisy world hears least.
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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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But who is innocent? By grace divine, Not otherwise,O Nature! we are thine.
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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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Life is divided into three terms – that which was, which is, and which will be.
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Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from.
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There is creation in the eye.
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A tale in everything.
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Imagination is the means of deep insight and sympathy, the power to conceive and express images removed from normal objective reality.
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And we shall find A pleasure in the dimness of the stars.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH