Q – William Wordsworth

William Wordsworth 1770 – 1850 was an English Romantic poet, who served as England’s Poet Laureate from 1843 until his death.

 

‘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’

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‘The best portion of a good man’s life: his little, nameless unremembered acts of kindness and love’

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‘Come forth into the light of things, Let Nature be your teacher’

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‘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’

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‘Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquillity’

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‘Pictures deface walls more often than they decorate them’

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‘Nature never did betray, the heart that loved her’

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‘A mind forever voyaging through strange seas of thought, alone’

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‘Wisdom is oftentimes nearer when we stoop than when we soar’

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‘Fill your paper with the breathing of your heart’

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‘The flower that smells the sweetest is shy and lowly’

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‘From the body of one guilty deed a thousand ghostly fears and haunting thoughts proceed’

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‘The mind of man is a thousand times more beautiful than the earth on which he dwells’

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‘The music in my heart I bore, long after it was heard no more’

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‘Poetry is the image of man and nature’

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‘Wild is the music of autumnal winds, Amongst the faded woods’

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‘The good die first, and they whose hearts are dry as summer dust, burn to the socket’

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‘With an eye made quiet by the power of harmony, and the deep power of joy, we see into the life of things’

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‘Then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils’

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‘Delight and liberty, the simple creed of childhood’

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‘Every gift of noble origin is breathed upon by Hope’s perpetual breath’

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‘But hushed be every thought that springs from out the bitterness of things’

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‘My heart leaps up when I behold a rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began; so it is now I am a man’

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‘Poetry is the first and last of all knowledge; it is as immortal as the heart of man’

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