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There is creation in the eye.

William Wordsworth

Wisdom married to immortal verse.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Marriage Mortal Wisdom
In ourselves our safety must be sought. By our own right hand it must be wrought.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Hands Ourselves Right Safety
And now I see with eye serene, The very pulse of the machine. A being breathing thoughtful breaths, A traveler between life and death.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Death Eyes Life Myself See Travel
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
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
The education of circumstances is superior to that of intuition.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Education Philosophy
As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Grief Happiness Ourselves
Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Feeling Ourselves Pleasure Pride
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

Break Comfortable Endurance Heart Love Strength
Great is the glory, for the strife is hard!
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Glory Greatness Hard
Pleasure is spread through the earth In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Gift Nature
The memory of the just survives in Heaven.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Heaven Memories Survive
O joy! that in our embers Is something that doth live, That nature yet remembers What was so fugitive!
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Joy Live Nature Ourselves Remember
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.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Born Flower Joy Thinking
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
Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Dance Flower Heart Myself Nature

There is creation in the eye.

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There is creation in the eye.

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