The tears into his eyes were brought, And thanks and praises seemed to run So fast out of his heart, I thought They never would have done. -I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds With coldness still returning; Alas! the gratitude of men Hath oftener left me mourning.
Interpretation
The quote reflects on the complexities of human gratitude and the pain of unreciprocated kindness.
In this quote, Wordsworth expresses a profound sense of disappointment regarding human nature, suggesting that despite the kindness offered, gratitude is often not reciprocated, leading to a feeling of sorrow. The imagery of tears and praises evokes a deep emotional response, illustrating the disconnect between noble intentions and the response they receive from others. Wordsworth highlights the bittersweet nature of giving and receiving, implying that acts of kindness can sometimes lead to emotional turmoil when they are not acknowledged or appreciated.
In practice
This quote could be used in a speech about the importance of recognizing small acts of kindness.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
We must have no carelessness in our dealings with public property or the expenditure of public money. Such a condition is characteristic either of an undeveloped people, or of a decadent civilization. America is neither.
Nothing is so fatal to religion as indifference.
Some of the worst racist tragedies in history have been perfectly legal.
We have need of history in its entirety, not to fall back into it, but to see if we can escape from it.
Bodies do not produce sensations, but complexes of elements (complexes of sensations) make up bodies.
All resistance is a rupture with what is. And every rupture begins, for those engaged in it, through a rupture with oneself.
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