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Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.

William Wordsworth

Related Topics

Feeling Ourselves Pleasure Pride

Bagwalas

Popular Authors

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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.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Forget Forgetfulness Glory Naked Ourselves
Type of the wise who soar but never roam, True to the kindred points of heaven and home.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Heaven Home True Wisdom
How many undervalue the power of simplicity ! But it is the real key to the heart.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Heart Power Reality Simplicity Value
Poetry is emotion recollected in tranquillity.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Collection Emotion Poetry Tranquility
All that we behold is full of blessings.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Blessing Gratitude One Liner
By all means sometimes be alone; salute thyself; see what thy soul doth wear; dare to look in thy chest; and tumble up and down what thou findest there.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Alone See Soul
And now I see with eye serene, The very pulse of the machine. A being breathing thoughtful breaths, A traveler between life and death.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Death Eyes Life Myself See Travel
Rest and be thankful.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

One Liner Thankful
Mathematics is an independent world created out of pure intelligence.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Creation Independent Intelligence Mathematics World
The mind of man is a thousand times more beautiful than the earth on which he dwells.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Beautiful Himself Man Mindset Time
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts bring sad thoughts to the mind.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Mindset Sadness Thinking
Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows Like harmony in music; there is a dark Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles Discordant elements, makes them cling together In one society.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Darkness Growth Mortal Music Spirit Togetherness
Memories -images and precious thoughts that shall not die and cannot be destroyed.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Death Destroy Memories
My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Eyes Heart Myself Tears
Poetry is the first and last of all knowledge – it is as immortal as the heart of man.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Heart Immortal Knowledge Man Poetry
What we have loved Others will love And we will teach them how.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Love Teaching

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