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Pictures deface walls more often than they decorate them.

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
Pictures
Wall
Often
Artist
Art
Deface
Decorate
Walls
Architecture

More quotes by William Wordsworth

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Even thus last night, and two nights more I lay, And could not win thee, Sleep, by any stealth: So do not let me wear to-night away. Without thee what is all the morning's wealth? Come, blessed barrier between day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!
William Wordsworth
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Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room And hermits are contented with their cells.
William Wordsworth
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Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain That has been, and may be again.
William Wordsworth
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Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.
William Wordsworth
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True beauty dwells in deep retreats, Whose veil is unremoved Till heart with heart in concord beats, And the lover is beloved.
William Wordsworth
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A few strong instincts and a few plain rules.
William Wordsworth
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O dearer far than light and life are dear.
William Wordsworth
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Of friends, however humble, scorn not one.
William Wordsworth
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And when a damp Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand The thing became a trumpet whence he blew Soul-animating strains,-alas! too few.
William Wordsworth
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The silence that is in the starry sky, / The sleep that is among the lonely hills.
William Wordsworth
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My apprehension comes in crowds, I dread the rustling of the grass, The very shadows of the clouds, Have power to shake me as they pass, I question things and do not find, one that will answer to my mind, And all the world appears unkind.
William Wordsworth
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Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence.
William Wordsworth
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Books are the best type of the influence of the past.
William Wordsworth
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My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard.
William Wordsworth
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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.
William Wordsworth
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I listened, motionless and still And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.
William Wordsworth
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Father! - to God himself we cannot give a holier name.
William Wordsworth
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And when the stream Which overflowed the soul was passed away, A consciousness remained that it had left Deposited upon the silent shore Of memory images and precious thoughts That shall not die, and cannot be destroyed.
William Wordsworth
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Enough, if something from our hands have power To live, and act, and serve the future hour And if, as toward the silent tomb we go, Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know.
William Wordsworth
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On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life, Musing in solitude, I oft perceive Fair trains of images before me rise, Accompanied by feelings of delight Pure, or with no unpleasing sadness mixed.
William Wordsworth