E. B. Browning Quotes

Desire joy and thank God for it. Renounce it, if need be, for other's sake. That's joy beyond joy.

Death was past, life not come: so he waited.

That we devote ourselves to God, is seen In living just as though no God there were.

The ultimate, angels' law, Indulging every instinct of the soul There where law, life, joy, impulse are one thing!

They are perfect; how else?-they shall never change: We are faulty; why not?-we have time in store.

In God's good time, Which does not always fall on Saturday When the world looks for wages.

Other heights in other lives, God willing.

If two lives join, there is oft a scar. They are one and one, with a shadowy third; One near one is too far.

Be sure that God Ne'er dooms to waste the strength he deigns impart.

Are there not, dear Michael, Two points in the adventure of the diver,- One, when a beggar he prepares to plunge; One, when a prince he rises with his pearl? Festus, I plunge.

When pain ends, gain ends too.

Any nose may ravage with impunity a rose.

But little do or can the best of us: That little is achieved through Liberty.

Still more labyrinthine buds the rose.

'Tis well averred, A scientific faith's absurd.

Heart, fear nothing, for, heart, thou shalt find her- Next time, herself!-not the trouble behind her

All service is the same with God.

And gain is gain, however small.

I know what I want and what I might gain, and yet, how profitless to know.

Hatred and cark and care, what place have they / In yon blue liberality of heaven?.

We shall march prospering,-not thro' his presence; Songs may inspirit us,-not from his lyre; Deeds will be done,-while he boasts his quiescence, Still bidding crouch whom the rest bade aspire.

'Tis only when they spring to Heaven that angels reveal themselves to you.

One may do whatever one likes. In art, the only thing is, to make sure that one does like it.

Shun death, is my advice.

Over my head his arm he flung, Against the world.

One wise man's verdict outweighs all the fools'.

Our aspirations are our responsibilities.

Thought is the soul of act.

Never the time and the place And the loved one all together.

Oh, good gigantic smile o' the brown old earth, This autumn morning! How he sets his bones To bask i' the sun, and thrusts out knees and feet. From the ripple to run over in its mirth

The devil, that old stager, who leads downward, perhaps, but fiddles all the way!

No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers, The heroes of old, Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears Of pain, darkness and cold.

A man in armour is his armour's slave.

As if true pride Were not also humble!

Time'swheelsrunsbackor stops: Potterand clayendure.

Smiling the boy fell dead.

Once more on my adventure brave and new.

I do what many dream of, all their lives

Fair or foul the lot apportioned life on earth, we bear alike.

Things are where things are, and, as fate has willed, So shall they be fulfilled.

A man in armor is his armor's slave.

Our interest's on the dangerous edge of things. The honest thief, the tender murderer, the superstitious atheist.

White shall not neutralize the black, nor good compensate bad in man, absolve him so; life's business being just the terrible choice.

Tis looking downward makes one dizzy.

Imperfection means perfection hid.

I, painting from myself and to myself, Know what I do, am unmoved by men's blame Or their praise either.

I am grown peaceful as old age tonight.

Though Rome's gross yoke Drops off, no more to be endured, Her teaching is not so obscured By errors and perversities, That no truth shines athwart the lies.

Italy, my Italy! Queen Mary's saying serves for me (When fortune's malice Lost her Calais): "Open my heart, and you will see Graved inside of it 'Italy.'"

Lost, lost! one moment knelled the woe of years.