Share
×
Inspirational Quotes
Authors
Professions
Topics
Tags
Quote
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
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
Open
Stature
Age
Seventies
Rather
Height
Personage
Years
Rise
Loftier
Seemed
Goodly
Size
Pomp
Victory
Monumental
Weight
Seventy
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Dreams, books, are each a world.
William Wordsworth
Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower.
William Wordsworth
Let beeves and home-bred kine partake The sweets of Burn-mill meadow The swan on still St. Mary's Lake Float double, swan and shadow!
William Wordsworth
The stars of midnight shall be dear To her and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.
William Wordsworth
In truth the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is.
William Wordsworth
The fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world Have hung upon the beatings of my heart.
William Wordsworth
Delight and liberty, the simple creed of childhood.
William Wordsworth
But hushed be every thought that springs From out the bitterness of things.
William Wordsworth
Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee! . . . . . . Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart: So didst thou travel on life's common way In cheerful godliness.
William Wordsworth
The unconquerable pang of despised love.
William Wordsworth
At length the man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day.
William Wordsworth
Everything is tedious when one does not read with the feeling of the Author.
William Wordsworth
Books are the best type of the influence of the past.
William Wordsworth
And mighty poets in their misery dead.
William Wordsworth
The clouds that gather round the setting sun, Do take a sober colouring from an eye, That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality.
William Wordsworth
my brain Worked with a dim and undetermined sense Of unknown modes of being o'er my thoughts There hung a darkness, call it solitude Or blank desertion.
William Wordsworth
Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence.
William Wordsworth
Careless of books, yet having felt the power Of Nature, by the gentle agency Of natural objects, led me on to feel For passions that were not my own, and think (At random and imperfectly indeed) On man, the heart of man, and human life.
William Wordsworth
Whom neither shape of danger can dismay, Nor thought of tender happiness betray.
William Wordsworth
Golf is a day spent in a round of strenuous idleness.
William Wordsworth
