Quotes from William Wordsworth

Great men have been among us; hands that penn'd And tongues that utter'd wisdom--better none

Wisdom and spirit of the Universe!

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

A famous man is Robin Hood, The English ballad-singer's joy.

Neither evil tongues, rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all the dreary intercourse of daily life, shall ever prevail against us.

Wild is the music of the autumnal wind Among the faded woods; but these blithe notes Strike the deserted to the heart;—I speak Of what I know, and what we feel within.

I wandered lonely as a Cloud That floats on high o'er Vales and Hills...

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

Knowledge and increase of enduring joy From the great Nature that exists in works Of mighty Poets.

Books! tis a dull and endless strife: Come, hear the woodland linnet, How sweet his music! on my life, There's more of wisdom in it.

Golf is a day spent in a round of strenuous idleness.

Have I not reason to lament What man has made of man?

My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man.

The child shall become father to the man.

The wealthiest man among us is the best

Yet tears to human suffering are due; And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown Are mourned by man, and not by man alone.

We Poets in our youth begin in gladness: But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.

Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge...

She was a Phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight A lovely Apparition sent To be a moment's ornament.

What is pride? A rocket that emulates the stars.

The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

...spring-time, when that soft air is breathing over the blossoms and new-born verdure...

The innocent brightness of a new-born Day Is lovely yet; The Clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober colouring from an eye That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality...

The stars were mingled with my dreams...