Quotes
Quotes - Wordsworth
Wisdom is ofttimes nearer when we stoop
Than when we soar.
Wrongs unredressed, or insults unavenged.
Monastic brotherhood, upon rock
Aerial.
The intellectual power, through words and things,
Went sounding on a dim and perilous way!
Society became my glittering bride,
And airy hopes my children.
And the most difficult of tasks to keep
Heights which the soul is competent to gain.
There is a luxury in self-dispraise;
And inward self-disparagement affords
To meditative spleen a grateful feast.
Recognizes ever and anon
The breeze of Nature stirring in his soul.
Pan himself,
The simple shepherd's awe-inspiring god!
I have seen
A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract
Of inland ground, applying to his ear
The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell,
To which, in silence hushed, his very soul
Listened intensely; and his countenance soon
Brightened with joy, for from within were heard
Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed
Mysterious union with his native sea.
So build we up the being that we are.
One in whom persuasion and belief
Had ripened into faith, and faith become
A passionate intuition.
Spires whose "silent finger points to heaven."
Ah, what a warning for a thoughtless man,
Could field or grove, could any spot of earth,
Show to his eye an image of the pangs
Which it hath witnessed,--render back an echo
Of the sad steps by which it hath been trod!
And when the stream
Which overflowed the soul was passed away,
A consciousness remained that it had left
Deposited upon the silent shore
Of memory images and precious thoughts
That shall not die, and cannot be destroyed.
Wisdom married to immortal verse.
A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays
And confident to-morrows.
The primal duties shine aloft, like stars;
The charities that soothe and heal and bless
Are scattered at the feet of man like flowers.
By happy chance we saw
A twofold image: on a grassy bank
A snow-white ram, and in the crystal flood
Another and the same!
The gods approve
The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul.
Mightier far
Than strength of nerve or sinew, or the sway
Of magic potent over sun and star,
Is Love, though oft to agony distrest,
And though his favorite seat be feeble woman's breast.
Elysian beauty, melancholy grace,
Brought from a pensive though a happy place.
He spake of love, such love as spirits feel
In worlds whose course is equable and pure;
No fears to beat away, no strife to heal,--
The past unsighed for, and the future sure.
Of all that is most beauteous, imaged there
In happier beauty; more pellucid streams,
An ampler ether, a diviner air,
And fields invested with purpureal gleams.
Yet tears to human suffering are due;
And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown
Are mourned by man, and not by man alone.
