Quote

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

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
Sense
Mortals
Realised
Nature
Guilty
Instincts
Thing
Instinct
Questioning
Questionings
Things
Creatures
Mortal
Misgivings
Like
Divine
Blank
Obstinate
World
High
Creature
Tremble
Moving
Worlds
Vanishing
Fall
Surprised
Outward

More quotes by William Wordsworth

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He who feels contempt for any living thing hath faculties that he hath never used, and thought with him is in its infancy.
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Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns.
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The oldest man he seemed that ever wore grey hairs.
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I should dread to disfigure the beautiful ideal of the memories of illustrious persons with incongruous features, and to sully the imaginative purity of classical works with gross and trivial recollections.
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The childhood of today is the manhood of tomorrow
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Free as a bird to settle where I will.
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I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea Nor England! did I know till then What love I bore to thee.
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The common growth of Mother Earth Suffices me,-her tears, her mirth, Her humblest mirth and tears.
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But He is risen, a later star of dawn.
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With battlements that on their restless fronts Bore stars.
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The softest breeze to fairest flowers gives birth: Think not that Prudence dwells in dark abodes, She scans the future with the eye of gods.
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If thou art beautiful, and youth and thought endue thee with all truth-be strong--be worthy of the grace of God.
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Sweet is the lore which Nature brings Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things We murder to dissect. Enough of Science and of Art Close up these barren leaves Come forth, and bring with you a heart That watches and receives.
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My apprehension comes in crowds, I dread the rustling of the grass, The very shadows of the clouds, Have power to shake me as they pass, I question things and do not find, one that will answer to my mind, And all the world appears unkind.
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May books and nature be their early joy!
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Hope smiled when your nativity was cast, Children of Summer!
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Sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart.
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How does the Meadow flower its bloom unfold? Because the lovely little flower is free down to its root, and in that freedom bold.
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If the time should ever come when what is now called Science, thus famliarised to men, shall be ready to put on, as it were, a form of flesh and blood, the Poet will lend his divine spirit to the aid the transfiguration, and will welcome the Being thus produced, as a dear and genuine inmate of the household of man.
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Give all thou canst high Heaven rejects the lore of nicely-caluculated less or more.
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