But an old age serene and bright, and lovely as a Lapland night, shall lead thee to thy grave. – William Wordsworth
How does the Meadow flower its bloom unfold? Because the lovely little flower is free down to its root, and in that freedom bold. – William Wordsworth
Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And shares the nature of infinity. – William Wordsworth
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. – William Wordsworth