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Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence.

William Wordsworth

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Moments Ourselves Silence

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

Come grow old with me. The best is yet to be.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Best Growth Myself Old Relationship
He spake of love, such love as spirits feel In worlds whose course is equable and pure; No fears to beat away, no strife to heal,- The past unsighed for, and the future sure.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Fear Feeling Future Healing Himself Love Past Spirit World
The light that never was, on sea or land; The consecration, and the Poet’s dream.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Dream Light Poet Sea
But who is innocent? By grace divine, Not otherwise,O Nature! we are thine.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Divine Grace Nature
May books and nature be their early joy!
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Book Joy Nature
Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

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

Eyes Solitude
There is creation in the eye.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Creation Eyes
Rest and be thankful.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

One Liner Thankful
Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Breathe Heart Yourself
Type of the wise who soar but never roam, True to the kindred points of heaven and home.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Heaven Home True Wisdom
We have within ourselves Enough to fill the present day with joy, And overspread the future years with hope.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Beginning Enough Future Joy Ourselves Present
As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Grief Happiness Ourselves
We live by admiration, hope and love.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Hope Live Love
A famous man is Robin Hood, The English ballad-singer’s joy.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Famous Joy Man Singer
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

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