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Truth takes no account of centuries.

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
Centuries
Account
Accounts
Century
Takes
Truth

More quotes by William Wordsworth

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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
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With an eye made quiet by the power of harmony, and the deep power of joy, we see into the life of things.
William Wordsworth
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Thou unassuming common-place of Nature, with that homely face.
William Wordsworth
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I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea Nor England! did I know till then What love I bore to thee.
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The Poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society.
William Wordsworth
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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
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As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.
William Wordsworth
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One in whom persuasion and belief Had ripened into faith, and faith become A passionate intuition.
William Wordsworth
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Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain That has been, and may be again.
William Wordsworth
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All that we behold is full of blessings.
William Wordsworth
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The earth was all before me. With a heart Joyous, nor scared at its own liberty, I look about and should the chosen guide Be nothing better than a wandering cloud, I cannot miss my way.
William Wordsworth
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Imagination, which in truth Is but another name for absolute power And clearest insight, amplitude of mind, And reason, in her most exalted mood.
William Wordsworth
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Rapine, avarice, expense, This is idolatry and these we adore Plain living and high thinking are no more.
William Wordsworth
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Every great and original writer, in proportion as he is great and original, must himself create the taste by which he is to be relished.
William Wordsworth
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Turning, for them who pass, the common dust Of servile opportunity to gold.
William Wordsworth
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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!
William Wordsworth
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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.
William Wordsworth
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Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
William Wordsworth
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Type of the wise who soar but never roam, True to the kindred points of heaven and home.
William Wordsworth
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A mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of Thought, alone.
William Wordsworth