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Fear is a cloak which old men huddle about their love, as if to keep it warm.
William Wordsworth
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William Wordsworth
Age: 80 †
Born: 1770
Born: April 7
Died: 1850
Died: April 23
Lyricist
Poet
Cockermouth
Cumbria
Wordsworth
Warm
Fear
Keep
Men
Love
Huddle
Cloak
Cloaks
More quotes by William Wordsworth
It is the 1st mild day of March. Each minute sweeter than before... there is a blessing in the air.
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Tis said, fantastic ocean doth enfold The likeness of whate'er on land is seen.
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Not in Utopia, -- subterranean fields, --Or some secreted island, Heaven knows whereBut in the very world, which is the worldOf all of us, -- the place where in the endWe find our happiness, or not at all
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The earth was all before me. With a heart Joyous, nor scared at its own liberty, I look about and should the chosen guide Be nothing better than a wandering cloud, I cannot miss my way.
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Let Nature be your teacher
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That best portion of a man's life, his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and love.
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The memory of the just survives in Heaven.
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Because the good old rule Sufficeth them,-the simple plan, That they should take who have the power, And they should keep who can.
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But trailing clouds of glory do we come, From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy!.
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The Eagle, he was lord above
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The streams with softest sound are flowing, The grass you almost hear it growing, You hear it now, if e'er you can.
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May books and nature be their early joy!
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The child is father of the man.
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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.
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The weight of sadness was in wonder lost.
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Look at the fate of summer flowers, which blow at daybreak, droop ere even-song.
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Laying out grounds... may be considered as a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting.... it is to assist Nature in moving the affections... the affections of those who have the deepest perception of the beauty of Nature.
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From the body of one guilty deed a thousand ghostly fears and haunting thoughts proceed.
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Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, And, even with something of a mother's mind, And no unworthy aim, The homely nurse doth all she can To make her foster child, her inmate man, Forget the glories he hath known And that imperial palace whence he came.
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I am already kindly disposed towards you. My friendship it is not in my power to give: this is a gift which no man can make, it is not in our own power: a sound and healthy friendship is the growth of time and circumstance, it will spring up and thrive like a wildflower when these favour, and when they do not, it is in vain to look for it.
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