William Wordsworth Quotes

Oh! To be a butterfly Still, upon a flower, Winking with its painted wings, Happy in the hour.

I love the feeling of the fresh air on my face and the wind blowing through my hair.

I love to sit on a mountain top and gaze. I don't think of anything but the people I care about and the view.

The Amen of nature is always a flower.

The trees, the flowers, the plants grow in silence. The stars, the sun, the moon move in silence. Silence gives us a new perspective.

Speak not, move not, but listen, the sky is full of gold. No ripple on the river, no stir in field or fold, All gleams but naught doth glisten, but the far-off unseen sea. Forget days past, heart broken, put all memory by! No grief on the green hillside, no pity in the sky, Joy that may not be spoken fills mead and flower and tree.

Oh! To be a flower Nodding in the sun, Bending, then upspringing As the breezes run.

A garden to walk in and immensity to dream in--what more could he ask? A few flowers at his feet and above him the stars.

With freedom, books, flowers, and the moon, who could not be happy?

Always take time to smell the flowers, and let it fill you with beauty, and rediscover that sense of wonder.

Butterflies...flowers that fly and all but sing.

These are the things I prize And hold of dearest worth: Light of the sapphire skies, Peace of the silent hills, Shelter of the forests, comfort of the grass, Music of birds, murmur of little rills, Shadows of cloud that swiftly pass, And, after showers, The smell of flowers And of the good brown earth,- And best of all, along the way, friendship and mirth.

Nobody can keep on being angry if she looks into the heart of a pansy for a little while.

Watch the indolent butterfly playing on the tall flower in the yard and think about the sun going down. It always does you know.

It is cruel, you know, that music should be so beautiful. It has the beauty of loneliness of pain: of strength and freedom. The beauty of disappointment and never-satisfied love. The cruel beauty of nature and everlasting beauty of monotony.

At the close of the day when the hamlet is still, and mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove, when naught but the torrent is heard on the hill, and naught but the nightingale's song in the grove.

A garden must combine the poetic and he mysterious with a feeling of serenity and joy.

A leaf fluttered in through the window this morning, as if supported by the rays of the sun, a bird settled on the fire escape, joy in the task of coffee, joy accompanied me as I walked.

A light wind swept over the corn, and all nature laughed in the sunshine.

Just living is not enough... one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.

Better than any argument is to rise at dawn and pick dew-wet red berries in a cup.

People who put my paintings on their walls are putting their values on their walls: faith, family, home, a simpler way of living, the beauty of nature, quiet, tranquillity, peace, joy, hope. They beckon you into this world that provides an alternative to your nightly news broadcast.

It's beautiful being out in the wild.

Summer afternoon, summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.

A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.