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We murder to dissect.

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
Dissect
Murder
Discovery

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The gods approve The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul.
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Faith is, necessary to explain anything, and to reconcile the foreknowledge of God with human evil.
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Free as a bird to settle where I will.
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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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The human mind is capable of excitement without the application of gross and violent stimulants and he must have a very faint perception of its beauty and dignity who does not know this.
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How does the Meadow flower its bloom unfold? Because the lovely little flower is free down to its root, and in that freedom bold.
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Monastic brotherhood, upon rock Aerial.
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Before us lay a painful road, And guidance have I sought in duteous love From Wisdom's heavenly Father. Hence hath flowed Patience, with trust that, whatsoe'er the way Each takes in this high matter, all may move Cheered with the prospect of a brighter day.
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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.
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True beauty dwells in deep retreats, Whose veil is unremoved Till heart with heart in concord beats, And the lover is beloved.
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The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink I heard a voice it said Drink, pretty creature, drink'
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The streams with softest sound are flowing, The grass you almost hear it growing, You hear it now, if e'er you can.
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Heaven lies about us in our infancy.
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How many undervalue the power of simplicity ! But it is the real key to the heart.
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A deep distress has humanised my soul.
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The eye— it cannot choose but see we cannot bid the ear be still our bodies feel, where'er they be, against or with our will.
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Pictures deface walls more often than they decorate them.
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Rapine, avarice, expense, This is idolatry and these we adore Plain living and high thinking are no more.
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Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn
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A power is passing from the earth.
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