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Poetry has never brought me in enough money to buy shoestrings.

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
Brought
Poetry
Money
Enough
Never

More quotes by William Wordsworth

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Sweetest melodies.Are those that are by distance made more sweet.
William Wordsworth
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I should dread to disfigure the beautiful ideal of the memories of illustrious persons with incongruous features, and to sully the imaginative purity of classical works with gross and trivial recollections.
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Fear is a cloak which old men huddle about their love, as if to keep it warm.
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How fast has brother followed brother, From sunshine to the sunless land!
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Elysian beauty, melancholy grace, Brought from a pensive though a happy place.
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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.
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A mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of Thought, alone.
William Wordsworth
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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.
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On a fair prospect some have looked, And felt, as I have heard them say, As if the moving time had been A thing as steadfast as the scene On which they gazed themselves away.
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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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What we have loved Others will love And we will teach them how.
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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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With little here to do or see Of things that in the great world be, Sweet Daisy! oft I talk to thee For thou art worthy, Thou unassuming commonplace Of Nature, with that homely face, And yet with something of a grace Which love makes for thee!
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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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To the solid ground Of nature trusts the Mind that builds for aye.
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The daisy, by the shadow that it casts, Protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun.
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That kill the bloom before its time, And blanch, without the owner's crime, The most resplendent hair.
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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The very flowers are sacred to the poor.
William Wordsworth
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Neither evil tongues, rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all the dreary intercourse of daily life, shall ever prevail against us.
William Wordsworth