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Thought and theory must precede all action, that moves to salutary purposes. Yet action is nobler in itself than either thought or theory.
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
Must
Precede
Nobler
Purposes
Moves
Theory
Either
Action
Thought
Salutary
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room And hermits are contented with their cells.
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Scorn not the sonnet. Critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honours with this key Shakespeare unlocked his heart.
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But He is risen, a later star of dawn.
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Those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, Fallings from us, vanishings Blank misgivings of a Creature Moving about in worlds not realised, High instincts before which our mortal Nature Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised
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And suddenly all your troubles melt away, all your worries are gone, and it is for no reason other than the look in your partner's eyes. Yes, sometimes life and love really is that simple.
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And now I see with eye serene, The very pulse of the machine. A being breathing thoughtful breaths, A traveler between life and death.
William Wordsworth
As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.
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But trailing clouds of glory do we come, From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy!.
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Recognizes ever and anon The breeze of Nature stirring in his soul.
William Wordsworth
I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams, wherever nature led.
William Wordsworth
Great is the glory, for the strife is hard!
William Wordsworth
A brotherhood of venerable trees.
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We have within ourselves Enough to fill the present day with joy, And overspread the future years with hope.
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Wild is the music of autumnal winds Amongst the faded woods.
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She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be But she is in her grave, and oh The difference to me!
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Behold the Child among his new-born blisses A six years' Darling of a pigmy size! See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies, Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses, With light upon him from his father's eyes! See, at his feet, some little plan or chart, Some fragment from his dream of human life, Shaped by himself with newly-learned art.
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The homely beauty of the good old cause Is gone
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I'll teach my boy the sweetest things I'll teach him how the owlet sings.
William Wordsworth
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!
William Wordsworth
Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.
William Wordsworth
