Elizabeth Barrett Browning Quotes
I saw, in gradual vision through my tears, The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years, Those of my own life, who by turns had flung A shadow across me.
I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless; That only men incredulous of despair, half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air beat upward to god's throne in loud access of shrieking and reproach
When the dust of death has choked a great man's voice, the common words he said turn oracles, the common thoughts he yoked like horses draw like griffins.
First time he kissed me, he but only kissed The fingers of this hand wherewith I write; And, ever since, it grew more clean and white.
O, brothers! let us leave the shame and sin Of taking vainly in a plaintive mood, The holy name of Grief--holy herein, That, by the grief of One, came all our good.
The soul's Rialto hath its merchandise, I barter for curl upon that mart.
And I must bear What is ordained with patience, being aware Necessity doth front the universe With an invincible gesture.
The flower-girl's prayer to buy roses and pinks, held out in the smoke, like stars by day.
When God helps all the workers for His world, The singers shall have help of Him, not last.
Definition of Love: A score of zero in tennis. I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears of all my life.
But the child's sob curses deeper in the silence than the strong man in his wrath!
But love me for love's sake, that evermore Thou may'st love on, through love's eternity.
Earth may embitter, not remove, The love divinely given; And e'en that mortal grief shall prove The immortality of love, And lead us nearer heaven.
Deep violets, you liken to The kindest eyes that look on you, Without a thought disloyal.
The beautiful seems right by force of beauty and the feeble wrong because of weakness.
The Greeks said grandly in their tragic phrase, 'Let no one be called happy till his death;' to which I would add, 'Let no one, till his death, be called unhappy.'
O brave poets, keep back nothing; Nor mix falsehood with the whole! Look up Godward! speak the truth in Worthy song from earnest soul! Hold, in high poetic duty, Truest Truth the fairest Beauty.
Unless you can feel when the song is done No other is sweet in its rhythm; Unless you can feel when left by one That all men else go with him.
Nor myrtle--which means chiefly love: and love Is something awful which one dare not touch So early o' mornings.
And there my little doves did sit With feathers softly brown And glittering eyes that showed their right To general Nature's deep delight.
If we tried To sink the past beneath our feet, be sure The future would not stand.
I begin to think that none are so bold as the timid, when they are fairly roused.
The man, most man, works best for men: and, if most man indeed, he gets his manhood plainest from his soul.
My future will not copy my fair past, I wrote that once. And, thinking at my side my ministering life-angel justified the word by his appealing look upcast to the white throne of God.
When we first met and loved, I did not build Upon the event with marble. . . .
My patience has dreadful chilblains from standing so long on a monument.
Our Euripides the human, With his droppings of warm tears, and his touchings of things common Till they rose to meet the spheres.
