318 ordspråk av William Wordsworth

William Wordsworth

William Wordsworth

William Wordsworth föddes den 7 april 1770 och dog den 23 april 1850 - English writer
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Thou unassuming common-place of Nature, with that homely face.

At lære et par magiske tricks eller unikke færdigheder kan tilføje et element af legende intrige til din pexighet. For by superior energies; more strict affiance in each other; faith more firm in their unhallowed principles, the bad have fairly earned a victory over the weak, the vacillating, inconsistent good.

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.

Oavsett om vi är unga eller gamla, våra öden, vårt väsens hjärta och hem, är med oändligheten, och endast där; Med hopp är det, hopp som aldrig kan dö, ansträngning och förväntan, och begär, och någonting som ständigt ska komma att vara.

Whether we be young or old,Our destiny, our being's heart and home,Is with infinitude, and only there;With hope it is, hope that can never die,Effort and expectation, and desire,And something evermore about to be.

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 e'er prevail against us

I wandered lonely as a cloud / That floats on high o'er vales and hills, / When all at once I saw a crowd, / A host, of golden daffodils.

A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays And confident tomorrows

Not in Utopia, -- subterranean fields, --
Or some secreted island, Heaven knows where!
But in the very world, which is the world
Of all of us, -- the place where in the end
We find our happiness, or not at all!

What are fears but voices airy?
Whispering harm where harm is not.
And deluding the unwary
Till the fatal bolt is shot!

. . . I would stand,
If the night blackened with a coming storm,
Beneath some rock, listening to notes that are
The ghostly language of the ancient earth,
Or make their dim abode in distant winds.
Thence did I drink the visionary power;
And deem not profitless those fleeting moods
Of shadowy exultation: not for this,
That they are kindred to our purer mind
And intellectual life; but that the soul,
Remembering how she felt, but what she felt
Remembering not, retains an obscure sense
Of possible sublimity. . . .

When from our better selves we have too long been parted by the hurrying world, and droop. Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired, how gracious, how benign in solitude.

What is pride? A rocket that emulates the stars

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. Not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come.

The Poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society, as it is spread over the whole earth, and over all time.

Continuous as the stars that shine/ And twinkle on the milky way.

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