“Personal Talk (concluded)” by William Worsdworth
Nor can I not believe but that hereby
Great gains are mine; for thus I live remote
From evil-speaking; rancor, never sought,
Comes to me not; malignant truth, or lie.
Hence have I genial seasons, hence have I
Smooth passions, smooth discourse, and joyous thought;
And thus from day to day my little boat
Rocks in its harbor, lodging peaceably.
Blessings be with them, and eternal praise,
Who gave us nobler loves and nobler cares,—
The Poets, who on earth have made us heirs
Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays!
Oh! might my name be numbered among theirs,
Then gladly would I end my mortal days.
Part of the privilege of writing daily and of scouring the world’s literature for inspirational snippets is the opportunity to luxuriate in the gentle and refined thoughts of men and women who left us the gifts of their words throughout history. These written “apples of gold in pictures of silver” echo through the ages and weave a golden thread of concordant purpose and meaning through an otherwise tattered bricolage of human experience.
Much of what has been recorded in the written word is rubbish, far from the gracefulness and subtlety of the heavenly lays for which Wordsworth is obviously so thankful. We are heirs of a remarkable legacy, on the one hand, but the legacy is only really valuable to us to the degree that it reawakens us to the spirits of love and truth, both of which gave rise to the anything truly valuable we have ever inherited.
You and I are here for one reason: to create by virtue of the inspiration of the spirit of love and within the framework of the spirit of truth. We are vitalized by the spirit of love and comforted by the spirit of truth. We cannot create anything meaningful or fulfilling without them. Our lives are creative to the degree that we let these two sing within and through us each and every moment of the day.
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