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A few strong instincts and a few plain rules.

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
Plain
Intuition
Instinct
Rules
Strong
Instincts

More quotes by William Wordsworth

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And what if thou, sweet May, hast known Mishap by worm and blight If expectations newly blown Have perished in thy sight If loves and joys, while up they sprung, Were caught as in a snare Such is the lot of all the young, However bright and fair.
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A mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of Thought, alone.
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my brain Worked with a dim and undetermined sense Of unknown modes of being o'er my thoughts There hung a darkness, call it solitude Or blank desertion.
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Wrongs unredressed, or insults unavenged.
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The child is the father of man.
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A light to guide, a rod To check the erring, and reprove.
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Minds that have nothing to confer Find little to perceive.
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My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began So is it now I am a man.
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Not in Utopia, -- subterranean fields, --Or some secreted island, Heaven knows whereBut in the very world, which is the worldOf all of us, -- the place where in the endWe find our happiness, or not at all
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And you must love him, ere to you He will seem worthy of your love.
William Wordsworth
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The tears into his eyes were brought, And thanks and praises seemed to run So fast out of his heart, I thought They never would have done. -I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds With coldness still returning Alas! the gratitude of men Hath oftener left me mourning.
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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.
William Wordsworth
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... and we shall find A pleasure in the dimness of the stars.
William Wordsworth
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Like an army defeated the snow hath retreated.
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We murder to dissect.
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With battlements that on their restless fronts Bore stars.
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How fast has brother followed brother, From sunshine to the sunless land!
William Wordsworth
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Men who can hear the Decalogue, and feel To self-reproach.
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Wild is the music of autumnal winds Amongst the faded woods.
William Wordsworth
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Either still I find Some imperfection in the chosen theme, Or see of absolute accomplishment Much wanting, so much wanting, in myself, That I recoil and droop, and seek repose In listlessness from vain perplexity, Unprofitably travelling towards the grave.
William Wordsworth