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.
How potent a mere image of her sway;
Most potent when impressed upon the mind
With an appropriate human centre – hermit,
Deep in the bosom of the wilderness; […]
Kneeling at prayers; or watchman on top
Of lighthouse, beaten by Atlantic waves; […]
When, for the night deserted, it assumes
A character of quiet more profound
Than pathless wastes.
— William Wordsworth, “The Prelude”
Credits: Photo: Nini Poppins. Quote: Google Books via whyallcaps.us
