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Of friends, however humble, scorn not one.

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
Scorn
Humble
However
Friends

More quotes by William Wordsworth

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Sweet childish days, that were as long, As twenty days are now.
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My apprehension comes in crowds, I dread the rustling of the grass, The very shadows of the clouds, Have power to shake me as they pass, I question things and do not find, one that will answer to my mind, And all the world appears unkind.
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A youth to whom was given So much of earth, so much of heaven.
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We must be free or die, who speak the tongue That Shakespeare spake the faith and morals hold Which Milton held.
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As generations come and go, Their arts, their customs, ebb and flow Fate, fortune, sweep strong powers away, And feeble, of themselves, decay.
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O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering voice?
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To me the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
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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.
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Since every mortal power of Coleridge Was frozen at its marvellous source, The rapt one, of the godlike forehead, The heaven-eyed creature sleeps in earth: And Lamb, the frolic and the gentle, Has vanished from his lonely hearth.
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In modern business it is not the crook who is to be feared most, it is the honest man who doesn't know what he is doing.
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In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay Tribute to ease and, of its joy secure, The heart luxuriates with indifferent things, Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones, And on the vacant air.
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Recognizes ever and anon The breeze of Nature stirring in his soul.
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One that would peep and botanize Upon his mother's grave.
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On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life, Musing in solitude, I oft perceive Fair trains of images before me rise, Accompanied by feelings of delight Pure, or with no unpleasing sadness mixed.
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A tale in everything.
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Not in Utopia, -- subterranean fields, --Or some secreted island, Heaven knows whereBut in the very world, which is the worldOf all of us, -- the place where in the endWe find our happiness, or not at all
William Wordsworth
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A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays And confident tomorrows.
William Wordsworth
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May books and nature be their early joy!
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A mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of Thought, alone.
William Wordsworth
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One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can.
William Wordsworth