William Wordsworth Quotes

...The happy Warrior... 'tis he whose law is reason; who depends upon that law as on the best of fri...

A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays And confident tomorrows.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,Hath had else...

Society has parted man from man, neglectful of the universal heart.

How does the Meadow flower its bloom unfold? Because the lovely little flower is free down to its ro...

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

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

But trailing clouds of glory do we come from God, who is our home.

Nature never did betrayThe heart that loved her.

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

The ocean is a mighty harmonist.

A simple child. That lightly draws its breath. And feels its life in every limb. What should it know...

The child is father to the man.

Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark,And has the nature of infinity.

Every great and original writer in proportion as he is great and original must himself create the ...

This is the way in which he (poet) did his work. He used to go out with a pencil and a tablet and no...

Words are too awful an instrument for good and evil to be trifled with: they hold above all other ex...

To character and success two things contradictory as they may seem must go together-humble depend...

The world is too much with us; late and soon, getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little ...

Is then no nook of English ground secureFrom rash assault?

When from our better selves we have too longBeen parted by the hurrying world, and droop,Sick of its...

The mind that is wise mourns less for what age takes away than what it leaves behind.

What though the radiance which was once so brightBe now for ever taken from my sight,Though nothing ...

Pictures deface walls more often than they decorate them.

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

Whither is fled the visionary gleam? Where is it now, the glory and the dream?

friend is the one who showes the way and walks a piece of road with us

The flower that smells the sweetest is shy and lowly.

The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benediction: not indeed For that which is m...

What is pride? A rocket that emulates the stars.

In modern business it is not the crook who is to be feared most, it is the honest man who doesn't kn...

With an eye made quiet by the power of harmony, and the deep power of joy, we see into the life of t...

The child is father of the man.

Rest and be thankful.

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

A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable.

That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing...

When from our better selves we have too long been parted by the hurrying world, and droop. Sick of i...

To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran And much it grieved my heart t...

The human mind is capable of excitement without the application of gross and violent stimulants and ...

That best portion of a good man's life His little nameless unremembered acts Of kindness and of l...

Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know,Are a substantial world, both pure and good:Roun...

Faith is a passionate intuition.

But thou art with us, with us in the past,The present, with us in the times to come.There is no grie...

Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart

What is a Poet? He is a man speaking to men: a man, it is true, endued with more lively sensibility,...

The child is the father of the man.

Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher.

Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.

In ourselves our safety must be sought. By our own right hand it must be wrought.

We must be free or die who speak the tongue That Shakespeare spake the faith and morals hold Which...

She was a Phantom of delightWhen first she gleam'd upon my sight;A lovely Apparition, sentTo be a mo...

..........books are yours, Within whose silent chambers treasure lies Preserved from age to age; mor...

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

Nature never did betray the heart that loved her.

Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.

To character and success two things contradictory as they may seem must go together-humble depend...

Lines Written In Early SpringI heard a thousand blended notes,While in a grove I sate reclined,In th...

One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sa...

Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And shares the nature of infinity.

Habit rules the unreflecting herd.

For I have learned to look on nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentime...

Though nothing can bring back the hourOf splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower;We will griev...

Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.

Life is divided into three terms - that which was, which is, and which will be. Let us learn from th...

Nature is a volume of which God is the author.

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

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

I listened, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long ...

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

To begin, begin.

...The happy Warrior... is he... who, doomed to go in company with pain, and fear, and bloodshed, mi...

...The happy Warrior... 'tis, finally, the man, who, lifted high, conspicuous object in a nation's e...

we not only wish to be pleased, but to be pleased in that particularway in which we have been accust...

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting...

I listen'd, motionless and still;And, as I mounted up the hill,The music in my heart I bore,Long aft...

...The happy Warrior... is he... whose powers shed round him in the common strife, or mild concerns ...

...The happy Warrior... is he... who, with a natural instinct to discern what knowledge can perform,...

...The happy Warrior... is the generous Spirit, who, when brought among the tasks of real life, hath...

I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills When all at once I saw a crow...

Therefore am I still / A lover of the meadows and the woods, / And mountains; and of all that we beh...

For I have learned to look on nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentime...

The eye--it cannot choose but see;We cannot bid the ear be still;Our bodies feel, where'er they be,A...

The pleasure-house is dust:—behind, before,This is no common waste, no common gloom;But Nature, in d...

I heard a thousand blended notesWhile in a grove I sate reclined,In that sweet mood when pleasant th...

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

Such views the youthful Bard allure,But, heedless of the following gloom,He deems their colours shal...

For I have learnedTo look on nature, not as in the hourOf thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimesT...

What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothin...

Hence, in a season of calm weatherThough inland far we be,Our souls have sight of that immortal sea

For a multitude of causes, unknown to former times, are now acting with a combined force to blunt th...

The world is too much with us; late and soon,Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;Little we...

Duty were our games.

Go to the poets, they will speak to theeMore perfectly of purer creatures--

Here must thou be, O man,Strength to thyself — no helper hast thou here —Here keepest thou thy indiv...

Surprised by joy- impatient as the WindI turned to share the transport-- Oh! with whomBut thee, deep...

Books! tis a dull and endless strife:Come, hear the woodland linnet,How sweet his music! on my life,...