William Wordsworth

William
Wordsworth
1770
1850

English Poet

Author Quotes

To me the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

We bow our heads before Thee, and we laud and magnify thy name Almighty God! But man is thy most awful instrument in working out a pure intent.

What we have loved, others will love, and we will teach them how; instruct them how the mind of man becomes a thousand times more beautiful than the earth on which he dwells...

No human ear shall ever hear me speak; no human dwelling ever give me food, or sleep, or rest: but, over waste and wild, in search of nothing, that this earth can give, but expiation, will I wander on -- a Man by pain and thought compelled to live, yet loathing life -- till anger is appeased in Heaven, and Mercy gives me leave to die.

O for a single hour of that Dundee, who on that day the word of onset gave!

Oh there is blessing in this gentle breeze, a visitant that while it fans my cheek doth seem half-conscious of the joy it brings from the green fields, and from yon azure sky. Whate'er its mission, the soft breeze can come to none more grateful than to me; escaped from the vast city, where I long had pined a discontented sojourner: now free, free as a bird to settle where I will.

Our meddling intellect misshapes the beauteous forms of things we murder to dissect.

Recognizes ever and anon the breeze of Nature stirring in his soul.

Small service is true service while it lasts. Of humblest friends, bright creature! Scorn not one: the daisy, by the shadow that it casts, protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun.

Still glides the Stream, and shall forever glide; the Form remains, the Function never dies.

That heareth not the loud winds when they call, and moveth all together, if it moves at all.

The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink; I heard a voice; it said `Drink, pretty creature, drink!'

The imperfect offices of prayer and praise.

The power of any art is limited.

The vision and the faculty divine; Yet wanting the accomplishment of verse.

There's something in a flying horse, There's something in a huge balloon.

Though inland far we be, our souls have sight of that immortal sea which brought us hither.

To the solid ground Of Nature trusts the mind that builds for aye.

We feel that we are greater than we know.

What we need is not the will to believe, but the wish to find out.

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.

O joy! that in our embers is something that doth live.

Oh, be wiser thou! Instructed that true knowledge leads to love.

Our noisy years seem moments in the being of the eternal silence.

Rest and be thankful.

Author Picture
First Name
William
Last Name
Wordsworth
Birth Date
1770
Death Date
1850
Bio

English Poet