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Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room And hermits are contented with their cells.
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
Nun
Contented
Narrow
Cells
Spirituality
Convent
Room
Nuns
Rooms
Fret
Hermits
More quotes by William Wordsworth
From the body of one guilty deed a thousand ghostly fears and haunting thoughts proceed.
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
Stern Winter loves a dirge-like sound.
William Wordsworth
Babylon, Learned and wise, hath perished utterly, Nor leaves her speech one word to aid the sigh That would lament her.
William Wordsworth
The moving accident is not my trade To freeze the blood I have no ready arts: 'Tis my delight, alone in summer shade, To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts.
William Wordsworth
Rapine, avarice, expense, This is idolatry and these we adore Plain living and high thinking are no more.
William Wordsworth
Dreams, books, are each a world and books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good: Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, Our pastime and our happiness will grow.
William Wordsworth
Laying out grounds... may be considered as a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting.... it is to assist Nature in moving the affections... the affections of those who have the deepest perception of the beauty of Nature.
William Wordsworth
We have within ourselves Enough to fill the present day with joy, And overspread the future years with hope.
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
Every gift of noble origin Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath.
William Wordsworth
Spires whose silent finger points to heaven.
William Wordsworth
As generations come and go, Their arts, their customs, ebb and flow Fate, fortune, sweep strong powers away, And feeble, of themselves, decay.
William Wordsworth
What we have loved Others will love And we will teach them how.
William Wordsworth
What know we of the Blest above but that they sing, and that they love?
William Wordsworth
Poetry has never brought me in enough money to buy shoestrings.
William Wordsworth
Poetry is most just to its divine origin, when it administers the comforts and breathes the thoughts of religion.
William Wordsworth
The vision and the faculty divine Yet wanting the accomplishment of verse.
William Wordsworth
What is pride? A rocket that emulates the stars.
William Wordsworth
Tis not in battles that from youth we train The Governor who must be wise and good, And temper with the sternness of the brain Thoughts motherly, and meek as womanhood.
William Wordsworth
