William Wordsworth

"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!"

"Therefore am I still / A lover of the meadows and the woods, / And mountains; and of all that we behold / From this green earth; of all the mighty world / Of eye and ear, both what they half create / And what perceive; well pleased to recognize / In nature and the language of the sense, / The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse/ The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul / Of all my moral being."

"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!This 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;It moves us not.—Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn."

"The eye--it cannot choose but see;We cannot bid the ear be still;Our bodies feel, where'er they be,Against or with our will."

"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."

"What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight,Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;We will grieve 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 the philosophic mind."

"“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 come”"

"“She Was A Phantom of Delight She was a Phantom of delight When first she gleam'd upon my sight;A lovely Apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament:Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair;But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn;A dancing shape, an image gay,To haunt, to startle, and waylay. I saw her upon nearer view,A Spirit, yet a Woman too!Her household motions light and free,And steps of virgin liberty;A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet;A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food,For transient sorrows, simple wiles,Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. And now I see with eye serene The very pulse of the machine;A being breathing thoughtful breath,A traveller between life and death:The reason firm, the temperate will,Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;A perfect Woman, nobly plann'd To warn, to comfort, and command;And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of an angel light.”"

"“What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight,Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;We will grieve 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 the philosophic mind.”"

"“Nature never did betray The heart that loved her.”"

"“Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.”"

"“I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud 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. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed--and gazed--but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.”"

"“Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower;We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind;In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be...”"

"How does the Meadow flower its bloom unfold? Because the lovely little flower is free down to its root, and in that freedom bold."

"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."

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

"To begin, begin."

"Pictures deface walls more often than they decorate them."

"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 flower that smells the sweetest is shy and lowly."