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My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard.
William Wordsworth
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Interpretation

What this quote means

This quote reflects nostalgia, evoking childhood memories through a blend of sorrow and affection.

William Wordsworth's quote captures the bittersweet nature of reminiscence, as the speaker feels a mixture of sadness and stirrings of emotion. The mention of 'childish tears' indicates a longing for the innocence and joy of youth, while the phrase 'the same sound is in my ears' suggests a profound connection to sounds from the past that bring back vivid memories, illustrating how they impact our present emotions.

Themes

NostalgiaChildhoodMemoriesEmotionTearsSound

In practice

Example use cases

This quote can be used in a speech about the impact of childhood experiences on personal growth.

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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.
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Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
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