Robert Browning Quotes

Poetry, like love, is something we never truly say goodbye to.

When is man strong until he feels alone?

Of what I call God, And fools call Nature.

All's love, yet all's law.

You never know what life means till you die; even throughout life, tis death that makes life live.

What a name! Was it love or praise? Speech half-asleep or song half-awake? I must learn Spanish, one of these days, Only for that slow sweet name's sake.

Where the apple reddens never pry - lest we lose our Edens, Eve and I.

Praise is deeper than the lips

Truth is within ourselves. There is an inmost center in us all, where the truth abides in fullness.

I hold that a man should strive to the uttermost for his life's set prize.

The best way to excape his ire Is, not to seem too happy.

Strike when thou wilt, the hour of rest, but let my last days be my best.

At last awake from life, that insane dream we take for waking now.

What joy is better than the news of friends?

Lose who may-I still can say, Those who win heaven, blest are they!

Such ever was love's way: to rise, it stoops.

The heavens and earth stay as they were; my heart Beats as it beat: the truth remains the truth.

Each life unfulfilled, you see; It hangs still, patchy and scrappy: We have not sighed deep, laughed free, Starved, feasted, despaired,—been happy.

Ah, love, - you are my unutterable blessing.....I am in full sunshine now.

God be thanked, the meanest of his creatures Boasts two soul-sides, one to face the world with, One to show a woman when he loves her.

O world, as God has made it! All is beauty.

Most progress is most failure.

I have lived, And seen God's hand thro a life time, And all was for the best.

In this world, who can do a thing, will not; And who would do it, cannot, I perceive: Yet the will's somewhat — somewhat, too, the power — And thus we half-men struggle.

Men are not angels, neither are they brutes.

The lie was dead And damned, and truth stood up instead.

Is your love for the Lord sufficient to give all your time and talents to his work?

We mortals cross the ocean of this world Each in his average cabin of a life; The bests not big, the worst yields elbowroom.

Mothers, wives and maids, These be the tools with which priests manage men.

Generations pass while some tree stands, and old families last not three oaks.

The common problem, yours, mine, everyone's Is ? not to fancy what were fair in life Provided it could be ? but, finding first What may be, then find how to make it fair Up to our means.

Can we love but on condition that the thing we love must die?

'Tis an awkward thing to play with souls.

In the first is the last, in thy will is my power to believe.

Silence 'tis awe decrees.

Death: the grand perhaps.

Man seeks his own good at the whole world's cost.

All poetry is putting the infinite within the finite.

Truth is truth howe'er it strike.

The world and life's too big to pass for a dream

The only fault's with time; All men become good creatures: but so slow!

What? Was man made a wheel-work to wind up, And be discharged, and straight wound up anew? No! grown, his growth lasts; taught, he ne'er forgets: May learn a thousand things, not twice the same.

Believeth with the life, the pain shall stop.

What so wild as words are?

Life is an empty dream.

But God has a few of us to whom he whispers in the ear; The rest may reason and welcome; 'tis we musicians know.

In heaven I yearn for knowledge, account all else inanity; On earth I confess an itch for the praise of fools - that's vanity

Let friend trust friends, and love demand love's like.

What's the earth With all its art, verse, music, worth — Compared with love, found, gained, and kept?

When I love most, love is disguised. In hate; and when hate is surprised, in love, then I hate most.