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Write to me frequently & the longest letters possible never mind whether you have facts or no to communicate fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.
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
Mind
Letters
Never
Paper
Possible
Whether
Longest
Write
Frequently
Facts
Fill
Writing
Breathing
Heart
Communicate
More quotes by William Wordsworth
Small service is true service, while it lasts.
William Wordsworth
A happy youth, and their old age Is beautiful and free.
William Wordsworth
Father! - to God himself we cannot give a holier name.
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I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams, wherever nature led.
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Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves Of their bad influence, and their good receives.
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A tale in everything.
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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.
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Whether we be young or old,Our destiny, our being's heart and home,Is with infinitude, and only thereWith hope it is, hope that can never die,Effort and expectation, and desire,And something evermore about to be.
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And I am happy when I sing.
William Wordsworth
And homeless near a thousand homes I stood, And near a thousand tables pined and wanted food.
William Wordsworth
The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration.
William Wordsworth
Who, doomed to go in company with Pain And Fear and Bloodshed,-miserable train!- Turns his necessity to glorious gain.
William Wordsworth
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
Give all thou canst high Heaven rejects the lore of nicely-caluculated less or more.
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He spake of love, such love as spirits feel In worlds whose course is equable and pure No fears to beat away, no strife to heal,- The past unsighed for, and the future sure.
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Dreams, books, are each a world.
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Then blame not those who, by the mightiest lever Known to the moral world, Imagination.
William Wordsworth
Scorn not the sonnet. Critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honours with this key Shakespeare unlocked his heart.
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All men feel a habitual gratitude, and something of an honorable bigotry, for the objects which have long continued to please them.
William Wordsworth
I'm not talking about a show me other walls of this thing button, I mean a stumble button for wallbase.
William Wordsworth