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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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In truth the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is.
William Wordsworth
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Sad fancies do we then affect, In luxury of disrespect To our own prodigal excess Of too familiar happiness.
William Wordsworth
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These hoards of wealth you can unlock at will.
William Wordsworth
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Poetry is emotion recollected in tranquillity.
William Wordsworth
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A tale in everything.
William Wordsworth
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Myriads of daisies have shone forth in flower Near the lark's nest, and in their natural hour Have passed away less happy than the one That by the unwilling ploughshare died to prove The tender charm of poetry and love.
William Wordsworth
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The child is father of the man: And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
William Wordsworth
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My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard.
William Wordsworth
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We bow our heads before Thee, and we laud, And magnify thy name Almighty God! But man is thy most awful instrument, In working out a pure intent.
William Wordsworth
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Death is the quiet haven of us all.
William Wordsworth
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O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering voice?
William Wordsworth
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[Mathematics] is an independent world created out of pure intelligence.
William Wordsworth
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The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, An appetite a feeling and a love that had no need of a remoter charm by thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
William Wordsworth
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One of those heavenly days that cannot die.
William Wordsworth
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The bosom-weight, your stubborn gift, That no philosophy can lift.
William Wordsworth
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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
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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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A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
William Wordsworth
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In this sequestered nook how sweet To sit upon my orchard seat And birds and flowers once more to greet. . . .
William Wordsworth
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Laying out grounds may be considered a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting.
William Wordsworth