Quotes from William Wordsworth

It has been said that in human life there are moments worth ages...

Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither...

It has been said that in human life there are moments worth ages... in the climate of England there are, for the lover of Nature, days which are worth whole months, — I might say — even years.

The ocean is a mighty harmonist.

Wisdom is oftentimes nearer when we stoop than when we soar.

But an old age serene and bright, and lovely as a Lapland night, shall lead thee to thy grave.

The monumental pomp of age Was with this goodly personage; A stature undepressed in size, Unbent, which rather seemed to rise In open victory o'er the weight Of seventy years, to loftier height.

The moving accident is not my trade; To freeze the blood I have no ready arts: 'Tis my delight, alone in summer shade, To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts.

As generations come and go, Their arts, their customs, ebb and flow; Fate, fortune, sweep strong powers away, And feeble, of themselves, decay.

Wisdom and Spirit of the universe! Thou soul, that art the eternity of thought, And giv'st to forms and images a breath And everlasting motion.

A lawyer art thou? Draw not nigh! Go, carry to some fitter place The keenness of that practised eye, The hardness of that sallow face.

The best portion of a good man's life: his little, nameless unremembered acts of kindness and love.

Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.

Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind; In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be...

Wisdom is oft-times nearer when we stoop Than when we soar.

Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.

What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind; In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be; In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of human suffering; In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind.

Nature never did betray The heart that loved her.

Rest and be thankful.

The music in my heart I bore Long after it was heard no more.

Come forth into the light of things, Let Nature be your teacher.

Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive But to be young was very heaven.

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: Not in entire forgetfulness, And not in utter nakedness, But trailing clouds of glory do we come

Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good: Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, Our pastime and our happiness will grow.