Quote

Sweet is the lore which Nature brings Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things: We murder to dissect.

William Wordsworth

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

William Wordsworth
Age: 80 †
Born: 1770
Born: April 7
Died: 1850
Died: April 23
Lyricist
Poet
Cockermouth
Cumbria
Wordsworth
Brings
Forms
Shapes
Beauteous
Sweet
Dissect
Nature
Lore
Form
Meddling
Things
Intellect
Murder

More quotes by William Wordsworth

Image
Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.
William Wordsworth
Image
Spires whose silent finger points to heaven.
William Wordsworth
Image
That to this mountain-daisy's self were known The beauty of its star-shaped shadow, thrown On the smooth surface of this naked stone!
William Wordsworth
Image
Whether we be young or old,Our destiny, our being's heart and home,Is with infinitude, and only thereWith hope it is, hope that can never die,Effort and expectation, and desire,And something evermore about to be.
William Wordsworth
Image
On a fair prospect some have looked, And felt, as I have heard them say, As if the moving time had been A thing as steadfast as the scene On which they gazed themselves away.
William Wordsworth
Image
The feather, whence the pen Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men, Dropped from an angel's wing.
William Wordsworth
Image
Burn all the statutes and their shelves: They stir us up against our kind And worse, against ourselves.
William Wordsworth
Image
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.
William Wordsworth
Image
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.
William Wordsworth
Image
That best portion of a man's life, his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and love.
William Wordsworth
Image
What is good for a bootless bene? With these dark words begins my tale And their meaning is, Whence can comfort spring When prayer is of no avail?
William Wordsworth
Image
Let Nature be your teacher
William Wordsworth
Image
A tale in everything.
William Wordsworth
Image
What know we of the Blest above but that they sing, and that they love?
William Wordsworth
Image
Huge and mighty forms that do not live like living men, moved slowly through the mind by day and were trouble to my dreams.
William Wordsworth
Image
A power is passing from the earth.
William Wordsworth
Image
What is pride? A rocket that emulates the stars.
William Wordsworth
Image
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar.
William Wordsworth
Image
A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of angelic light
William Wordsworth
Image
I've watched you now a full half-hour Self-poised upon that yellow flower And, little Butterfly! Indeed I know not if you sleep or feed. How motionless! - not frozen seas More motionless! and then What joy awaits you, when the breeze Hath found you out among the trees, And calls you forth again!
William Wordsworth