William Wordsworth Quotes

How little remains of the man I once was, save the memory of him! But remembering is only a new form of suffering.

Every thought should recall the ruin of a smile.

I know beginnings, I know endings too, and life-in-death, and something else I'd rather not recall just now.

There is no greater sorrow than to recall happiness in times of misery.

Sorrow lies like a heartbeat behind everything I have written.

Guilt is perhaps the most painful companion of death.

When my young men began the killing, my heart was hurt.

Why love if losing hurts so much? I have no answers anymore; only the life I have lived. The pain now is part of the happiness then.

I think whenever you lose somebody close to you, there's always a part of you that wishes you could have done something differently.

I have spent more than half a lifetime trying to express the tragic moment.

Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin.

All I have I would have given gladly not to be standing here today.

There is no greater sorrow Than to be mindful of the happy time In misery

Bereavement is terrible, of course. And when somebody you love dies, it's a time for reflection, a time for memory, a time for regret.

I know so many people who have tremendous regret in their life.

I know how it feels to lose.

Those who are held Wise among men and who search the reasons of things, are those who bring the most sorrow on themselves.

Remorse is memory awake.

Let me tell you a few things about regret. There is no end to it. Do you regret the beginning which ended so badly, or just the ending itself?

But I saw the pain and sadness in everything, and swirled it round my mouth like a fine wine.

I hate that she's hurt. I hate that she's been hurt, by me and by others, throughout the entire arc of her life. I barely remember pain, but when I see it in her I feel it in myself, in disproportionate measure. it creeps into my eyes, stinging, burning.

It was a long and gloomy night that gathered on me, haunted by the ghosts of many hopes, of many dear remembrances, many errors, many unavailing sorrows and regrets.

The brooding is better than the joy because even if the heart fills with happiness, it still mourns.

Remembering is only a new form of suffering.