William Wordsworth Quotes, Nature Quotes, Blow Quotes

Let the moon shine on the in thy solitary walk; and let the misty mountain-winds be free to blow against thee.

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Poetry is the first and last of all knowledge - it is as immortal as the heart of man.

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

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Tags : William Wordsworth Quotes , Love Quotes , Inspirational Quotes

Bright was the summer's noon when quickening steps Followed each other till a dreary moor Was crossed, a bare ridge clomb, upon whose top Standing alone, as from a rampart's edge, I overlooked the bed of Windermere, Like a vast river, stretching in the sun.

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Hearing often-times the still, sad music of humanity, nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power to chasten and subdue.

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There's something in a flying horse, There's something in a huge balloon.

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Choice word and measured phrase above the reach Of ordinary men.

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Meek Walton's heavenly memory.

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For nature then to me was all in all.

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Since thy return, through days and weeks Of hope that grew by stealth, How many wan and faded cheeks Have kindled into health! The Old, by thee revived, have said, 'Another year is ours;' And wayworn Wanderers, poorly fed, Have smiled upon thy flowers.

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There is One great society alone on earth: The noble living and the noble dead.

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Oft on the dappled turf at ease I sit, and play with similes, Loose type of things through all degrees.

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No motion has she now, no force; she neither hears nor sees; rolled around in earth's diurnal course, with rocks, and stones, and trees.

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We bow our heads before Thee, and we laud, And magnify thy name Almighty God! But man is thy most awful instrument, In working out a pure intent.

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Tags : William Wordsworth Quotes , God Quotes , Men Quotes

Sweet Mercy! to the gates of heaven This minstrel lead, his sins forgiven; The rueful conflict, the heart riven With vain endeavour, And memory of Earth's bitter leaven Effaced forever.

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Tags : William Wordsworth Quotes , Sweet Quotes , Memories Quotes

What are fears but voices airy? Whispering harm where harm is not. And deluding the unwary Till the fatal bolt is shot!

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The bosom-weight, your stubborn gift, That no philosophy can lift.

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Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge; it is the impassioned expression which is in the countenance of all Science

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A brotherhood of venerable trees.

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If the time should ever come when what is now called Science, thus famliarised to men, shall be ready to put on, as it were, a form of flesh and blood, the Poet will lend his divine spirit to the aid the transfiguration, and will welcome the Being thus produced, as a dear and genuine inmate of the household of man.

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Tags : William Wordsworth Quotes , Men Quotes , Blood Quotes