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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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William Wordsworth
Age: 80 †
Born: 1770
Born: April 7
Died: 1850
Died: April 23
Lyricist
Poet
Cockermouth
Cumbria
Wordsworth
Books
Nature
Woodland
Music
Strife
Book
Dull
Come
Endless
Life
Sweet
Hear
Wisdom
More quotes by William Wordsworth
There is creation in the eye.
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The childhood of today is the manhood of tomorrow
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Truth takes no account of centuries.
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In modern business it is not the crook who is to be feared most, it is the honest man who doesn't know what he is doing.
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Tis said, fantastic ocean doth enfold The likeness of whate'er on land is seen.
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Two voices are there one is of the sea, One of the mountains: each a mighty Voice.
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Life is divided into three terms - that which was, which is, and which will be. Let us learn from the past to profit by the present, and from the present, to live better in the future.
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Strongest minds are often those whom the noisy world hears least.
William Wordsworth
When his veering gait And every motion of his starry train Seem governed by a strain Of music, audible to him alone.
William Wordsworth
Choice word and measured phrase above the reach Of ordinary men.
William Wordsworth
Now when the primrose makes a splendid show, And lilies face the March-winds in full blow, And humbler growths as moved with one desire Put on, to welcome spring, their best attire, Poor Robin is yet flowerless but how gay With his red stalks upon this sunny day!
William Wordsworth
Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed Their snow-white blossoms on my head, With brightest sunshine round me spread Of spring's unclouded weather, In this sequestered nook how sweet To sit upon my orchard-seat! And birds and flowers once more to greet, My last year's friends together.
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Imagination is the means of deep insight and sympathy, the power to conceive and express images removed from normal objective reality.
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Burn all the statutes and their shelves: They stir us up against our kind And worse, against ourselves.
William Wordsworth
The world is too much with us late and soon, getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours.
William Wordsworth
Thou unassuming common-place of Nature, with that homely face.
William Wordsworth
This solitary Tree! a living thing Produced too slowly ever to decay Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed.
William Wordsworth
Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower, The periwinkle trailed its wreaths And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes.
William Wordsworth
He loves not well whose love is bold! I would not have thee come too nigh. The sun's gold would not seem pure gold Unless the sun were in the sky: To take him thence and chain him near Would make his beauty disappear. William Winter, Love's Queen. The unconquerable pang of despised love.
William Wordsworth
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.
William Wordsworth
