Waxing

Sometimes I just want a place to post lovely readings I am reminded of or find. You, my kind readers, may be the beneficiaries of my literary proclivities. Either that or you are my captive victims. :) The following is from William Wordsworth's beautiful autobiographical poem The Prelude. It is the source of one of my favorite quotes. Can you figure out what it is?

Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows
Like harmony in music; there is a dark
Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles
Discordant elements, makes them cling together
In one society. How strange, that all
The terrors, pains, and early miseries,
Regrets, vexations, lassitudes interfused
Within my mind, should e'er have borne a part,
And that a needful part, in making up
The calm existence that is mine when I
Am worthy of myself! Praise to the end!
Thanks to the means which Nature deigned to employ;
Whether her fearless visitings, or those
That came with soft alarm, like hurtless light
Opening the peaceful clouds; or she would use
Severer interventions, ministry
More palpable, as best might suit her aim.