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What is pride? A rocket that emulates the stars.
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
Rocket
Emulate
Rockets
Pride
Stars
More quotes by William Wordsworth
The thought of our past years in me doth breed perpetual benedictions.
William Wordsworth
The common growth of Mother Earth Suffices me,-her tears, her mirth, Her humblest mirth and tears.
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Our meddling intellect Misshapes the beauteous forms of things We murder to dissect
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Often have I sighed to measure By myself a lonely pleasure,- Sighed to think I read a book, Only read, perhaps, by me.
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From the body of one guilty deed a thousand ghostly fears and haunting thoughts proceed.
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Departing summer hath assumed An aspect tenderly illumed, The gentlest look of spring That calls from yonder leafy shade Unfaded, yet prepared to fade, A timely carolling.
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Society became my glittering bride, And airy hopes my children.
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Tis not in battles that from youth we train The Governor who must be wise and good, And temper with the sternness of the brain Thoughts motherly, and meek as womanhood.
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For I have learned to look on nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes the still, sad music of humanity.
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Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room And hermits are contented with their cells.
William Wordsworth
The earth was all before me. With a heart Joyous, nor scared at its own liberty, I look about and should the chosen guide Be nothing better than a wandering cloud, I cannot miss my way.
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Small service is true service, while it lasts.
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The harvest of a quiet eye, That broods and sleeps on his own heart.
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One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can.
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A genial hearth, a hospitable board, and a refined rusticity.
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What we have loved Others will love And we will teach them how.
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It is the 1st mild day of March. Each minute sweeter than before... there is a blessing in the air.
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The soft blue sky did never melt Into his heart he never felt The witchery of the soft blue sky!
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His high endeavours are an inward light That makes the path before him always bright.
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Miss not the occasion by the forelock take that subtle power, the never-halting time.
William Wordsworth