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When from our better selves we have too long been parted by the hurrying world, and droop. Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired, how gracious, how benign is solitude.
William Wordsworth
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Interpretation

What this quote means

Solitude offers a much-needed refuge from the chaos of daily life, allowing a reconnection with our true selves.

In this quote, Wordsworth suggests that in the midst of life's distractions and constant busyness, we often lose touch with our authentic selves. Solitude provides a valuable opportunity to step away from the hustle and bustle, reflect, and rejuvenate our spirits, revealing the beauty and grace that such moments of silence can bring.

Themes

SolitudeSelf-DiscoveryReflectionPeaceNature

In practice

Example use cases

In a speech about the importance of mental health, one might quote Wordsworth to emphasize the need for personal time away from stress.

More from William Wordsworth

For mightier far_x000D_ _x000D_ Than strength of nerve or sinew, or the sway_x000D_ _x000D_ Of magic potent over sun and star,_x000D_ _x000D_ Is love, though oft to agony distrest,_x000D_ _x000D_ And though his favourite be feeble woman's breast.
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By all means sometimes be alone; salute thyself; see what thy soul doth wear; dare to look in thy chest; and tumble up and down what thou findest there.
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There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,_x000D_ _x000D_ The earth, and every common sight,_x000D_ _x000D_ To me did seem_x000D_ _x000D_ Apparelled in celestial light,_x000D_ _x000D_ The glory and the freshness of a dream.
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Books are yours, Within whose silent chambers treasure lies Preserved from age to age; more precious far Than that accumulated store of gold And orient gems, which, for a day of need, The Sultan hides deep in ancestral tombs. These hoards of truth you can unlock at will.
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The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune.
William WordsworthRead
Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
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A little wisdom, now and then

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