William Wordsworth Quotes, Flower Quotes, Sleep Quotes

The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune.

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

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We live by admiration, hope and love.

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Sweet is the lore which Nature brings; Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things We murder to dissect. Enough of Science and of Art; Close up these barren leaves; Come forth, and bring with you a heart That watches and receives.

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"One impulse from a vernal wood

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The stars of midnight shall be dear To her; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.

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To the solid ground Of nature trusts the Mind that builds for aye.

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Minds that have nothing to confer Find little to perceive.

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Yet sometimes, when the secret cup Of still and serious thought went round, It seemed as if he drank it up, He felt with spirit so profound.

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Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep/ Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind.

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Strongest minds are often those whom the noisy world hears least.

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The ocean is a mighty harmonist.

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The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion; the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, An appetite; a feeling and a love that had no need of a remoter charm by thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.

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Tags : William Wordsworth Quotes , Love Quotes , Passion Quotes

I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills When all at once I saw a crowd A host of golden daffodils Beside the lake beneath the trees Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

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the Mind of Man-- My haunt, and the main region of my song.

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O Reader! had you in your mind Such stores as silent thought can bring, O gentle Reader! you would find A tale in everything.

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In years that bring the philosophic mind.

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I, methought, while the sweet breath of heaven Was blowing on my body, felt within A correspondent breeze, that gently moved With quickening virtue, but is now become A tempest, a redundant energy, Vexing its own creation.

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The harvest of a quiet eye, That broods and sleeps on his own heart.

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That kill the bloom before its time, And blanch, without the owner's crime, The most resplendent hair.

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