Share
×
Inspirational Quotes
Authors
Professions
Topics
Tags
Quote
She gave me eyes, she gave me ears And humble cares, and delicate fears A heart, the fountain of sweet tears And love and thought and joy.
William Wordsworth
Share
Change background
T
T
T
Change font
Original
TAGS & TOPICS
William Wordsworth
Age: 80 †
Born: 1770
Born: April 7
Died: 1850
Died: April 23
Lyricist
Poet
Cockermouth
Cumbria
Wordsworth
Heart
Gave
Love
Tears
Fountain
Sweet
Cares
Joy
Delicate
Eyes
Fears
Eye
Caring
Thought
Humble
Care
Ears
More quotes by William Wordsworth
The oldest man he seemed that ever wore grey hairs.
William Wordsworth
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.
William Wordsworth
Death is the quiet haven of us all.
William Wordsworth
Hunt half a day for a forgotten dream.
William Wordsworth
In truth the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is.
William Wordsworth
One in whom persuasion and belief Had ripened into faith, and faith become A passionate intuition.
William Wordsworth
Have I not reason to lament What man has made of man?
William Wordsworth
Society became my glittering bride, And airy hopes my children.
William Wordsworth
Far from the world I walk, and from all care.
William Wordsworth
Spires whose silent finger points to heaven.
William Wordsworth
Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither.
William Wordsworth
Pictures deface walls more often than they decorate them.
William Wordsworth
There is a comfort in the strength of love 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else would overset the brain, or break the heart.
William Wordsworth
We must be free or die, who speak the tongue That Shakespeare spake the faith and morals hold Which Milton held.
William Wordsworth
The monumental pomp of age Was with this goodly personage A stature undepressed in size, Unbent, which rather seemed to rise In open victory o'er the weight Of seventy years, to loftier height.
William Wordsworth
We live by Admiration, Hope, and Love And, even as these are well and wisely fixed, In dignity of being we ascend.
William Wordsworth
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
These hoards of wealth you can unlock at will.
William Wordsworth
Like an army defeated The snow hath retreated, And now doth fare ill On the top of the bare hill The Ploughboy is whooping — anon — anon! There's joy in the mountains: There's life in the fountains Small clouds are sailing, Blue sky prevailing The rain is over and gone.
William Wordsworth
The fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world Have hung upon the beatings of my heart.
William Wordsworth