“The World Is Too Much with Us”

I don’t know if it’s my age, or the fact that the internet is no longer plugged into the wall and now travels with me everywhere I go, but I find myself thinking of that Wordsworth poem that begins, “The world is too much with us; late and soon.”

Classic whodunits have long offered temporary escapes whenever the world is too much with us — like now.

Escapism gets a bad rap, but there are times — like now — when the world is too much with us and nothing but light reading will do.

There’s a poem I read once, titled “The World Is Too Much with Us,” and I guess that is the best way to describe the feeling—the world is too much with me.

Think of Wordsworth, The world is too much with us, Or Arnold: And we are here as on a darkling plain.