William Wordsworth

7 Apr 1770 // 23 Apr 1850


For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago.
The music in my heart I bore
Long after it was heard no more.
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain
That has been, and may be again.


On Anger: "For every minute you remain angry, you give up sixty seconds of peace of mind."
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
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."