Quote

There is a luxury in self-dispraise And inward self-disparagement affords To meditative spleen a grateful feast.

William Wordsworth

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

William Wordsworth
Age: 80 †
Born: 1770
Born: April 7
Died: 1850
Died: April 23
Lyricist
Poet
Cockermouth
Cumbria
Wordsworth
Feast
Inward
Luxury
Grateful
Dispraise
Self
Disparagement
Spleen
Meditative
Affords

More quotes by William Wordsworth

Image
Spade! Thou art a tool of honor in my hands. I press thee, through a yielding soil, with pride.
William Wordsworth
Image
Meek Nature's evening comment on the shows That for oblivion take their daily birth From all the fuming vanities of earth.
William Wordsworth
Image
If thou art beautiful, and youth and thought endue thee with all truth-be strong--be worthy of the grace of God.
William Wordsworth
Image
Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.
William Wordsworth
Image
Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind--But how could I forget thee?
William Wordsworth
Image
A babe, by intercourse of touch I held mute dialogues with my Mother's heart.
William Wordsworth
Image
In truth the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is.
William Wordsworth
Image
A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable.
William Wordsworth
Image
Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky! Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound? Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground?
William Wordsworth
Image
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
William Wordsworth
Image
Science appears but what in truth she is, Not as our glory and our absolute boast, But as a succedaneum, and a prop To our infirmity.
William Wordsworth
Image
Bright flower! whose home is everywhere Bold in maternal nature's care And all the long year through the heir Of joy or sorrow, Methinks that there abides in thee Some concord with humanity, Given to no other flower I see The forest through.
William Wordsworth
Image
She was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight, A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament Her eyes as stars of twilight fair, Like twilights too her dusky hair, But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn.
William Wordsworth
Image
A tale in everything.
William Wordsworth
Image
And what if thou, sweet May, hast known Mishap by worm and blight If expectations newly blown Have perished in thy sight If loves and joys, while up they sprung, Were caught as in a snare Such is the lot of all the young, However bright and fair.
William Wordsworth
Image
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar.
William Wordsworth
Image
This solitary Tree! a living thing Produced too slowly ever to decay Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed.
William Wordsworth
Image
It is the 1st mild day of March. Each minute sweeter than before... there is a blessing in the air.
William Wordsworth
Image
Death is the quiet haven of us all.
William Wordsworth
Image
Love betters what is best
William Wordsworth