Quotes from William Wordsworth

But hushed be every thought that springsFrom out the bitterness of things.

Pleasure is spread through the earth In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find.

The harvest of a quiet eye.

Sweet childish days, that were as long As twenty days are now.

We feel that we are greater than we know.

Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!The river glideth at his own sweet will!Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;And all that mighty heart is lying still!

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 comeFrom God, who is our home:Heaven lies about us in our infancy!Shades of the prison-house begin to closeUpon the growing boy.

Happier of happy though I be, like them I cannot take possession of the sky, Mount with a thoughtless impulse and wheel there One of a mighty multitude, whose way And motion is a harmony and dance Magnificent....

And mighty poets in their misery dead.

Fear is a cloak which old men huddle about their love, as if to keep it warm.

Two voices are there: one is of the sea,One of the mountains; each a mighty voice.

That inward eyeWhich is the bliss of solitude.

Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong;And the most ancient heavens, through Thee, are fresh and strong.

My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky...

Laying out grounds... may be considered as a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting.... it is to assist Nature in moving the affections... the affections of those who have the deepest perception of the beauty of Nature...

A light to guide, a rodTo check the erring, and reprove.

Stern daughter of the voice of God!O Duty!

...where music dwells Lingering — and wandering on as loth to die...

'Tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes!

The unimaginable touch of Time.

I wandered lonely as a cloudThat floats on high o'er vales and hills,When all at once I saw a crowd,A host, of golden daffodils.

What fond and wayward thoughts will slideInto a lover's head!"O mercy!" to myself I cried,"If Lucy should be dead!"

But who shall parcel out His intellect by geometric rules, Split like a province into round and square?

Choice word and measured phrase, above the reachOf ordinary men.