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Wrongs unredressed, or insults unavenged.

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
Insults
Wrongs
Insult

More quotes by William Wordsworth

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Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence.
William Wordsworth
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Me this uncharted freedom tires I feel the weight of chance desires, My hopes no more must change their name, I long for a repose that ever is the same.
William Wordsworth
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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
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What we have loved Others will love And we will teach them how.
William Wordsworth
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The sightless Milton, with his hair Around his placid temples curled And Shakespeare at his side,-a freight, If clay could think and mind were weight, For him who bore the world!
William Wordsworth
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By all means sometimes be alone salute thyself see what thy soul doth wear dare to look in thy chest and tumble up and down what thou findest there.
William Wordsworth
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A few strong instincts and a few plain rules.
William Wordsworth
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Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn
William Wordsworth
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When from our better selves we have too long been parted by the hurrying world, and droop. Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired, how gracious, how benign is solitude.
William Wordsworth
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I'm not talking about a show me other walls of this thing button, I mean a stumble button for wallbase.
William Wordsworth
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Like an army defeated the snow hath retreated.
William Wordsworth
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And the most difficult of tasks to keep Heights which the soul is competent to gain.
William Wordsworth
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[Mathematics] is an independent world created out of pure intelligence.
William Wordsworth
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A famous man is Robin Hood, The English ballad-singer's joy.
William Wordsworth
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Yet tears to human suffering are due And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown Are mourned by man, and not by man alone.
William Wordsworth
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A power is passing from the earth.
William Wordsworth
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Scorn not the sonnet. Critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honours with this key Shakespeare unlocked his heart.
William Wordsworth
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Alas! how little can a moment show Of an eye where feeling plays In ten thousand dewy rays: A face o'er which a thousand shadows go!
William Wordsworth
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The wind, a sightless laborer, whistles at his task.
William Wordsworth
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The eye— it cannot choose but see we cannot bid the ear be still our bodies feel, where'er they be, against or with our will.
William Wordsworth