Love betters what is best.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTHOur 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.
More William Wordsworth Quotes
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Habit rules the unreflecting herd.
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Be mild, and cleave to gentle things, thy glory and thy happiness be there.
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Often in my way have I stood still, though but a casual passenger, so much I felt the awfulness of life.
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Faith is a passionate intuition.
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The flower that smells the sweetest is shy and lowly.
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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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Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.
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The education of circumstances is superior to that of intuition.
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The mind of man is a thousand times more beautiful than the earth on which he dwells.
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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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But He is risen, a later star of dawn.
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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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And suddenly all your troubles melt away, all your worries are gone, and it is for no reason other than the look in your partner’s eyes. Yes, sometimes life and love really is that simple.
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Strongest minds are often those whom the noisy world hears least.
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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.
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Great men have been among us; hands that penn’d and tongues that utter’d wisdom.
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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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A famous man is Robin Hood, The English ballad-singer’s joy.
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Type of the wise who soar but never roam, True to the kindred points of heaven and home.
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From the body of one guilty deed a thousand ghostly fears and haunting thoughts proceed.
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We live by admiration, hope and love.
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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.
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The light that never was, on sea or land; The consecration, and the Poet’s dream.
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Rest and be thankful.
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Great is the glory, for the strife is hard!
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True beauty dwells in deep retreats, Till heart with heart in concord beats, and the lover is beloved.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH