My battle cry when I was in English class in high school. I eventually transferred to another class.
Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books;Or surely you’ll grow double:Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks;Why all this toil and trouble?The sun above the mountain’s head,A freshening lustre mellowThrough all the long green fields has spread,His first sweet evening yellow.Books! ’tis a dull and endless strife:Come, hear the woodland linnet,How sweet his music! on my life,There’s more of wisdom in it.And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!He, too, is no mean preacher:Come forth into the light of things,Let Nature be your teacher.She has a world of ready wealth,Our minds and hearts to bless—Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health,Truth breathed by cheerfulness.One impulse from a vernal woodMay teach you more of man,Of moral evil and of good,Than all the sages can.Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;Our meddling intellectMis-shapes the beauteous forms of things:—We murder to dissect.Enough of Science and of Art;Close up those barren leaves;Come forth, and bring with you a heartThat watches and receives.Got that? “…bring with you a heartThat watches and receives."
- William Wordsworth, "The Tables Turned"
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