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The mind of man is a thousand times more beautiful than the earth on which he dwells.

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
Earth
Mind
Men
Dwells
Thousand
Times
Beautiful

More quotes by William Wordsworth

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Give unto me, made lowly wise, The spirit of self-sacrifice The confidence of reason give, And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live!
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Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.
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The stars of midnight shall be dear To her and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.
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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.
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Choice word and measured phrase above the reach Of ordinary men.
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Sweetest melodies.Are those that are by distance made more sweet.
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Prompt to move but firm to wait - knowing things rashly sought are rarely found.
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Sweet Mercy! to the gates of heaven This minstrel lead, his sins forgiven The rueful conflict, the heart riven With vain endeavour, And memory of Earth's bitter leaven Effaced forever.
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Pleasure is spread through the earth In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find.
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A lawyer art thou? Draw not nigh! Go, carry to some fitter place The keenness of that practised eye, The hardness of that sallow face.
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Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close upon the growing boy.
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All that we behold is full of blessings.
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For nature then to me was all in all.
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And the most difficult of tasks to keep Heights which the soul is competent to gain.
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Burn all the statutes and their shelves: They stir us up against our kind And worse, against ourselves.
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Recognizes ever and anon The breeze of Nature stirring in his soul.
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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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Action is transitory, a step, a blow, The motion of a muscle, this way or that, 'Tis done--And in the after-vacancy, We wonder at ourselves, like men betrayed.
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A genial hearth, a hospitable board, and a refined rusticity.
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Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.
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