William Wordsworth
Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close upon the growing boy.
Hearing often-times the still, sad music of humanity, nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power to chasten and subdue.
Happier of happy though I be, like them I cannot take possession of the sky, mount with a thoughtless impulse, and wheel there, one of a mighty multitude whose way and motion is a harmony and dance magnificent.
Golf is a day spent in a round of strenuous idleness.
Give all thou canst; high Heaven rejects the lore of nicely-calculated less or more.
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.
For by superior energies; more strict affiance in each other; faith more firm in their unhallowed principles, the bad have fairly earned a victory over the weak, the vacillating, inconsistent good.
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.
Faith is a passionate intuition.
Come forth into the light of things, Let Nature be your teacher.
But an old age serene and bright, and lovely as a Lapland night, shall lead thee to thy grave.
A reasoning, self-sufficing thing, An intellectual all-in-all!
A multitude of causes unknown to former times are now acting with a combined force to blunt the discriminating powers of the mind, and unfitting it for all voluntary exertion to reduce it to a state of almost savage torpor.
A day spent in a round of strenuous idleness.