William Wordsworth

a romantic English poet whose work was inspired by the Lake District where he spent most of his life (1770-1850)

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A mind forever voyaging through strange seas of thought, alone.
For I have learned to look on nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes the still, sad music of humanity.
How does the Meadow flower its bloom unfold Because the lovely little flower is free Down to its root, and in that freedom bold.
I am already kindly disposed towards you. My friendship it is not in my power to give: this is a gift which no man can make, it is not in our own power: a sound and healthy friendship is the growth of time and circumstance, it will spring up and thrive like a wildflower when these favour, and when they do not, it is in vain to look for it.
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts bring sad thoughts to the mind.
Life is divided into three terms - that which was, which is, and which will be. Let us learn from the past to profit by the present, and from the present to live better in the future.
Nature never did betray The heart that loved her.
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.
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 comet from afar: not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come from God, who is our home.
Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings.
She seemed a thing that could not feel the touch of earthly years.
She was a phantom of delight When first she gleam'd upon my sight A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament.
That best portion of a good man's life, His little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love.
The human mind is capable of excitement without the application of gross and violent stimulants; and he must have a very faint perception of its beauty and dignity who does not know this.
The little unremembered acts of kindness and love are the best parts of a person's life.
The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benedictions.
The world is too much with us late and soon,Getting and spending, we lay waste our powersLittle we see in Nature that is oursWe have given our hearts away, a sordid boon
This city now doth, like a garment, wear the beauty of the morning; silent bare, ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie open unto the fields and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
What though the radiance which was once so bright Be not forever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower 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 philophic mind.
What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be not forever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
Grief 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 philophic mind.
When from our better selves we have too long been parted by the hurrying world, and droop. Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired, how gracious, how benign in solitude.
Wisdom and spirit of the Universe Thou soul is the eternity of thought That giv'st to forms and images a breath And everlasting motion Not in vain By day or star-light thus from by first dawn Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me The passions that build up our human soul, Not with the mean and vulgar works of man, But with high objects, with enduring things, With life and nature, purifying thus The elements of feeling and of thought, And sanctifying, by such discipline Both pain and fear, until we recognize A grandeur in the beatings of the heart.
Wisdom is ofttimes nearer when we stoop Than when we soar.

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