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Nature never did betray the heart that loved her.

William Wordsworth

Related Topics

Heart Herself Love Nature

Bagwalas

Popular Authors

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

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

Eyes Solitude
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.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Darkness Growth Mortal Music Spirit Togetherness
Life is divided into three terms – that which was, which is, and which will be.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Future Life Past Philosphy Present
As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Grief Happiness Ourselves
How does the Meadow flower its bloom unfold? Because the lovely little flower is free down to its root, and in that freedom bold.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Flower Freedom
Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Light Nature Teacher
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
Love betters what is best.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Best Love One Liner
A tale in everything.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

One Liner Story
May books and nature be their early joy!
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Book Joy Nature
To me the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Flower Lie Myself Tears
True beauty dwells in deep retreats, Till heart with heart in concord beats, and the lover is beloved.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Beauty Heart Love See True
Faith is a passionate intuition.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Faith Passionate
Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge; it is the impassioned expression which is in the countenance of all Science.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Breathe Expression Knowledge Poetry Science Spirit
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. Not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Forget Forgetfulness Glory Naked Ourselves
One daffodil is worth a thousand pleasures, then one is too few.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Flower Oneself Worth

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