Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.— William Wordsworth
The most lavish William Wordsworth quotes that are proven to give you inner joy
one daffodil is worth a thousand pleasures, then one is too few.
Come grow old with me. The best is yet to be.
How many undervalue the power of simplicity ! But it is the real key to the heart.
That best portion of a good man's life, his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love.
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.
Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.
With an eye made quiet by the power of harmony, and the deep power of joy, we see into the life of things.
Strongest minds are often those whom the noisy world hears least.
The flower that smells the sweetest is shy and lowly.
The best portion of a good man's life is in his little nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love.
By all means sometimes be alone; salute thyself; see what thy soul doth wear; dare to look in thy chest; and tumble up and down what thou findest there.
And suddenly all your troubles melt away, all your worries are gone, and it is for no reason other than the look in your partner's eyes. Yes, sometimes life and love really is that simple.
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.
We have within ourselves Enough to fill the present day with joy, And overspread the future years with hope.
Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And shares the nature of infinity.
Pleasure is spread through the earth In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find.
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
My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The Child is father of the Man; I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
Open-mindedness is the harvest of a quiet eye.
A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by One after one;
the sound of rain, and bees Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas, Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky - I've thought of all by turns, and still I lie Sleepless.
The education of circumstances is superior to that of tuition.
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.
Elysian beauty, melancholy grace, Brought from a pensive though a happy place.
Ten thousand saw I at a glance, tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
Nor will I then thy modest grace forget, Chaste Snow-drop, venturous harbinger of Spring, And pensive monitor of fleeting years!
Nature never did betray the heart that loved her.
As thou these ashes, little brook, wilt bear Into the Avon, Avon to the tide Of Severn, Severn to the narrow seas, Into main ocean they, this deed accursed An emblem yields to friends and enemies How the bold teacher's doctrine, sanctified By truth, shall spread, throughout the world dispersed.
Rest and be thankful.
Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge;
it is the impassioned expression which is in the countenance of all Science
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.
We live by admiration, hope and love.
There is a comfort in the strength of love;
'Twill make a thing endurable, which else would overset the brain, or break the heart.
Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters.
How does the Meadow flower its bloom unfold? Because the lovely little flower is free down to its root, and in that freedom bold.
Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher.
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.
The ocean is a mighty harmonist.
That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
All that we behold is full of blessings.
The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration.
The soft blue sky did never melt Into his heart; he never felt The witchery of the soft blue sky!
The mind that is wise mourns less for what age takes away; than what it leaves behind.
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.
Not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come.
To me the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
That best portion of a good man's life;
His little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love.