873 Quotes by William Wordsworth

Look at the fate of summer flowers, which blow at daybreak, droop ere even-song.

There's not a nook within this solemn pass/ But were an apt confessional for one/ Taught by his summer spent, his autumn gone,/ That life is but a tale of morning grass/ Withered at eve.

The Poet, gentle creature as he is, Hath, like the Lover, his unruly times; His fits when he is neither sick nor well, Though no distress be near him but his own Unmanageable thoughts.

Give all thou canst; high Heaven rejects the lore of nicely-caluculated less or more.

There's not a manThat lives who hath not known his god-like hours.

Because the good old rule Sufficeth them,-the simple plan, That they should take who have the power, And they should keep who can.

Earth has not anything to show more fair.

A soul so pitiably forlorn, If such do on this earth abide, May season apathy with scorn, May turn indifference to pride; And still be not unblest- compared With him who grovels, self-debarred From all that lies within the scope Of holy faith and christian hope; Or, shipwrecked, kindles on the coast False fires, that others may be lost.

The truth is easier when you leavin' it out. Like when you "5 minutes away" but you're just leavin your house?