Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart. – William Wordsworth
I listened, motionless and still And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more. – William Wordsworth

Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart. – William Wordsworth
I listened, motionless and still And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more. – William Wordsworth
Fear is a cloak which old men huddle about their love, as if to keep it warm. – William Wordsworth