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Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And shares the nature of infinity.
William Wordsworth
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William Wordsworth
Age: 80 †
Born: 1770
Born: April 7
Died: 1850
Died: April 23
Lyricist
Poet
Cockermouth
Cumbria
Wordsworth
Sad
Infinity
Obscure
Permanent
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More quotes by William Wordsworth
For youthful faults ripe virtues shall atone.
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The thought of death sits easy on the man Who has been born and dies among the mountains.
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His high endeavours are an inward light That makes the path before him always bright.
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Small service is true service, while it lasts.
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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.
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Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee! . . . . . . Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart: So didst thou travel on life's common way In cheerful godliness.
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Wrongs unredressed, or insults unavenged.
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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.
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But how can he expect that others should Build for him, sow for him, and at his call Love him, who for himself will take no heed at all?
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Pansies, lilies, kingcups, daisies, Let them live upon their praises.
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Look for the stars, you'll say that there are none / Look up a second time, and, one by one, / You mark them twinkling out with silvery light, / And wonder how they could elude the sight!
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The oldest man he seemed that ever wore grey hairs.
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Our meddling intellect Misshapes the beauteous forms of things We murder to dissect
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That mighty orb of song, The divine Milton.
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My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began So is it now I am a man So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The Child is father of the Man I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
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Ten thousand saw I at a glance, tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
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Not in Utopia, -- subterranean fields, --Or some secreted island, Heaven knows whereBut in the very world, which is the worldOf all of us, -- the place where in the endWe find our happiness, or not at all
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Free as a bird to settle where I will.
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A deep distress has humanised my soul.
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Serene will be our days, and bright and happy will our nature be, when love is an unerring light, and joy its own security.
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