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A multitude of causes unknown to former times are now acting with a combined force to blunt the discriminating powers of the mind, and unfitting it for all voluntary exertion to reduce it to a state of almost savage torpor.
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
Causes
Combined
Torpor
Almost
Multitudes
Discriminating
State
Savages
Modernism
Acting
Reduce
Exertion
Times
Unknown
Voluntary
Force
Powers
Blunt
States
Former
Multitude
Mind
Stupid
Savage
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Either still I find Some imperfection in the chosen theme, Or see of absolute accomplishment Much wanting, so much wanting, in myself, That I recoil and droop, and seek repose In listlessness from vain perplexity, Unprofitably travelling towards the grave.
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That best portion of a man's life, his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and love.
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Every great and original writer, in proportion as he is great and original, must himself create the taste by which he is to be relished.
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But who, if he be called upon to face Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined Great issues, good or bad for humankind, Is happy as a lover.
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The very flowers are sacred to the poor.
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Rapine, avarice, expense, This is idolatry and these we adore Plain living and high thinking are no more.
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No motion has she now, no force she neither hears nor sees rolled around in earth's diurnal course, with rocks, and stones, and trees.
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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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Pleasure is spread through the earth In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find.
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That kill the bloom before its time, And blanch, without the owner's crime, The most resplendent hair.
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The common growth of Mother Earth Suffices me,-her tears, her mirth, Her humblest mirth and tears.
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Hearing often-times the still, sad music of humanity, nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power to chasten and subdue.
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The good die first, and they whose hearts are dry as summer dust, burn to the socket.
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I look for ghosts but none will force Their way to me. 'Tis falsely said That there was ever intercourse Between the living and the dead.
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A light to guide, a rod To check the erring, and reprove.
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By happy chance we saw A twofold image: on a grassy bank A snow-white ram, and in the crystal flood Another and the same!
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Come, blessed barrier between day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!
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Ah, what a warning for a thoughtless man, Could field or grove, could any spot of earth, Show to his eye an image of the pangs Which it hath witnessed,-render back an echo Of the sad steps by which it hath been trod!
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The light that never was, on sea or land The consecration, and the Poet's dream.
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With battlements that on their restless fronts Bore stars.
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