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He who feels contempt for any living thing hath faculties that he hath never used, and thought with him is in its infancy.
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
Used
Feels
Faculties
Thing
Infancy
Never
Hath
Contempt
Faculty
Living
Thought
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Great God! I'd rather be a Pagan.
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Who, doomed to go in company with Pain And Fear and Bloodshed,-miserable train!- Turns his necessity to glorious gain.
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But an old age serene and bright, and lovely as a Lapland night, shall lead thee to thy grave.
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Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.
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Truths that wake To perish never
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Heaven lies about us in our infancy.
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But who, if he be called upon to face Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined Great issues, good or bad for humankind, Is happy as a lover.
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This solitary Tree! a living thing Produced too slowly ever to decay Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed.
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Burn all the statutes and their shelves: They stir us up against our kind And worse, against ourselves.
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The oldest man he seemed that ever wore grey hairs.
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We have within ourselves Enough to fill the present day with joy, And overspread the future years with hope.
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Books are yours, Within whose silent chambers treasure lies Preserved from age to age more precious far Than that accumulated store of gold And orient gems, which, for a day of need, The Sultan hides deep in ancestral tombs. These hoards of truth you can unlock at will.
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A multitude of causes unknown to former times are now acting with a combined force to blunt the discriminating powers of the mind, and unfitting it for all voluntary exertion to reduce it to a state of almost savage torpor.
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Stop thinking for once in your life!
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I've watched you now a full half-hour Self-poised upon that yellow flower And, little Butterfly! Indeed I know not if you sleep or feed. How motionless! - not frozen seas More motionless! and then What joy awaits you, when the breeze Hath found you out among the trees, And calls you forth again!
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If the time should ever come when what is now called Science, thus famliarised to men, shall be ready to put on, as it were, a form of flesh and blood, the Poet will lend his divine spirit to the aid the transfiguration, and will welcome the Being thus produced, as a dear and genuine inmate of the household of man.
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Brothers all In honour, as in one community, Scholars and gentlemen.
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Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room And hermits are contented with their cells.
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Wisdom is oftentimes nearer when we stoop than when we soar.
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And he is oft the wisest manWho is not wise at all.
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