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Wordsworth AO3 and AO4

Wordsworth on poetry and emotions
all good poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings […] recollected in tranquillity

Wordsworth on truth
poetry’s ‘object is truth’

Wordsworth on man and nature
essentially adapted to each other

Wordsworth on the survival of poetry
is as immortal as the heart of man

Pope
the use of the grand style on little subjects, is not only ludicrous, but a sort of transgression against the rules of proportions and mechanics

Southey
find fit subjects for philosophizing and fine feeling in every peasant and vagabond he meets

Anna Seward
this egotistic manufacturer of metaphysical importance upon trivial themes

Coleridge on WW’s poetry
to excite a feeling analogous to the supernatural

Hazlitt on strength
his strength lies in his weakness

Hazlitt on Wordsworth
the most original poet now living

Thomas De Quincey
sympathy for what is really permanent in human feelings’

Arnold on Romantics
the English poetry of the first quarter of this century, with plenty of energy, plenty of creative force, did not know enough

Arnold on Wordsworth’s poetry
source in a great movement of feeling, not in a great movement of mind

Geoffrey Hartman
consciousness of consciousness

Simon Jarvis
his writing is always breaking through to some experience for which the available lexicon fails

James Kissane on the moon
the moon, which reflects the sun’s radiance, [is] a particularly appropriate symbol for the imagination, that human reflection of the ‘Wisdom and Spirit of the universe’

James Kissane on the mind
the mind’s power to transform […] objects of nature when the imagination breaks through […] and “We see into the life of things”

William Godwin
satisfied that monarchy was a species of government unavoidably corrupt

Burke on the sublime and the beautiful
one being founded on pain, the other on pleasure

Burke on the source of the sublime
whatever is in any sort terrible, or […] operates in a manner analogous to terror, is a source of the sublime

Blake, ‘The School Boy’
I love to rise in a summer morn, / When the birds sing on every tree; / The distant huntsman winds his horn, / And the sky-lark sings with me. / O! what sweet company.

Marlowe, ‘A Passionate Shepherd to his Love’
Come live with me and be my love, / And we will all the pleasures prove, / That valleys, groves, hills and fields, / Woods and steepy mountain yields

Wordsworth on the language of rustic life
In low and rustic life […] the essential passions of the heart […] speak a plainer and more emphatic language

Dr Johnson’s parody
I put my hat upon my head / And walked into the Strand, / And there I met another man / Whose hat was in his hand.

Coleridge on nature
the other great Bible of God, the book of nature

Anne Radcliffe, The Mysteries of Udolpho
she saw only images of gloomy grandeur, or of dreadful sublimity

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