Quote

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

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

William Wordsworth
Age: 80 †
Born: 1770
Born: April 7
Died: 1850
Died: April 23
Lyricist
Poet
Cockermouth
Cumbria
Wordsworth
Thinking
Unknown
Solitude
Worked
Undetermined
Darkness
Desertion
Thoughts
Modes
Brain
Hung
Call
Blank
Sense
Thoughtful

More quotes by William Wordsworth

Image
Heaven lies about us in our infancy.
William Wordsworth
Image
It is the 1st mild day of March. Each minute sweeter than before... there is a blessing in the air.
William Wordsworth
Image
But an old age serene and bright, and lovely as a Lapland night, shall lead thee to thy grave.
William Wordsworth
Image
That to this mountain-daisy's self were known The beauty of its star-shaped shadow, thrown On the smooth surface of this naked stone!
William Wordsworth
Image
Faith is, necessary to explain anything, and to reconcile the foreknowledge of God with human evil.
William Wordsworth
Image
A cheerful life is what the Muses love. A soaring spirit is their prime delight.
William Wordsworth
Image
No motion has she now, no force she neither hears nor sees rolled around in earth's diurnal course, with rocks, and stones, and trees.
William Wordsworth
Image
Poetry is the outcome of emotions recollected in tranquility.
William Wordsworth
Image
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
William Wordsworth
Image
Me this uncharted freedom tires I feel the weight of chance desires, My hopes no more must change their name, I long for a repose that ever is the same.
William Wordsworth
Image
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
Image
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.
William Wordsworth
Image
Sweet Mercy! to the gates of heaven This minstrel lead, his sins forgiven The rueful conflict, the heart riven With vain endeavour, And memory of Earth's bitter leaven Effaced forever.
William Wordsworth
Image
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
Image
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
Image
Spires whose silent finger points to heaven.
William Wordsworth
Image
Choice word and measured phrase above the reach Of ordinary men.
William Wordsworth
Image
Yet tears to human suffering are due And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown Are mourned by man, and not by man alone.
William Wordsworth
Image
One in whom persuasion and belief Had ripened into faith, and faith become A passionate intuition.
William Wordsworth
Image
By happy chance we saw A twofold image: on a grassy bank A snow-white ram, and in the crystal flood Another and the same!
William Wordsworth