Quotes
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Two voices are there: one is of the sea,
One of the mountains, each a mighty voice.
One of the mountains, each a mighty voice.
Thought of a Briton on the Subjugation of Switzerland
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower.
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower.
Intimations of Immortality
The soft blue sky did never melt
Into his heart; he never felt
The witchery of the soft blue sky!
Into his heart; he never felt
The witchery of the soft blue sky!
Peter Bell
Oft on the dappled turf at ease
I sit, and play with similes,
Loose type of things through all degrees.
I sit, and play with similes,
Loose type of things through all degrees.
To the same Flower
A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye;
Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.
Half hidden from the eye;
Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
One impulse from a vernal wood
May teach you more of man,�
Of moral evil and of good,�
Than all the sages can.
May teach you more of man,�
Of moral evil and of good,�
Than all the sages can.
The Tables Turned
The clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober colouring from an eye
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality.
Do take a sober colouring from an eye
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality.
Intimations of Immortality
How does the meadow-flower its bloom unfold?
Because the lovely little flower is free
Down to its root, and in that freedom bold.
Because the lovely little flower is free
Down to its root, and in that freedom bold.
A Poet! He hath put his Heart to School
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On Anger: "For every minute you remain angry, you give up sixty seconds of peace of mind."
Essays
Essays
On Destiny: "Our destiny exercises its influence over us even when, as yet, we have not learned its nature: it is our future that lays down the law of our today."
Human, All Too Human
Human, All Too Human
On Friendship: "A crowd is not company; and faces are but a gallery of pictures; and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love."
Essays
Essays