E. B. Browning Quotes
"With this same key Shakespeare unlocked his heart" once more! Did Shakespeare? If so, the less Shakespeare he!
A people is but the attempt of many To rise to the completer life of one; And those who live as models for the mass Are singly of more value than they all.
Into the street the piper stepped, Smiling first a little smile As if he knew what magic slept In his quiet pipe the while. And the piper advanced And the children followed.
Stand still, true poet that you are! I know you; let me try and draw you. Some night you'll fail us: when afar You rise, remember one man saw you, Knew you, and named a star!
The sea heaves up, hangs loaded o'er the land, Breaks there, and buries its tumultuous strength.
Better have failed in the high aim, as I, Than vulgarly in the low aim succeed As, God be thanked! I do not.
For I say this is death and the sole death,- When a man's loss comes to him from his gain, Darkness from light, from knowledge ignorance, And lack of love from love made manifest.
Sappho survives, because we sing her songs; And Eschylus, because we read his plays!
I say, the acknowledgment of God in ChristAccepted by thy reason, solves for theeAll questions in the earth and out of it,And has so far advanced thee to be wise.
And inasmuch as feeling, the East's gift, Is quick and transient,- comes, and lo! is gone, While Northern thought is slow and durable.
Shakespeare was of us, Milton was of us, Burns, Shelley, were with us. They watch from their graves!
We find great things are made of little things, And little things go lessening till at last Comes God behind them.
When a man's busy, why leisure Strikes him as wonderful pleasure: 'Faith, and at leisure once is he? Straightway he wants to be busy.
Of power does Man possess no particle: Of knowledge-just so much as show that still It ends in ignorance on every side.
O woman-country! wooed not wed, Loved all the more by earth's male-lands, Laid to their hearts instead.
Was there nought better than to enjoy? No feat which, done, would make time break, And let us pent-up creatures through Into eternity, our due? No forcing earth teach heaven's employ?
Who hears music, feels his solitudePeopled at once.
Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, The last of life, for which the first was made ...
Blot out his name, then, record one lost soul more, One task more declined, one more footpath untrod, One more devils’-triumph and sorrow for angels, One wrong more to man, one more insult to God!
Blot out his name, then, record one lost soul more, One task more declin'd, one more foot-path ontrod, One more devil's triumph and sorrow for angels, One wrong more to man, one more insult to God!
