Quotes by Robert Browning
What of soul was left, I wonder, when the kissing had to stop?
One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, never doubted clouds would break, Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, sleep to wake.
Faultless to a fault.
Ambition is not what man does... but what man would do.
What's a man's age? He must hurry more, that's all; Cram in a day, what his youth took a year to hold.
Take away love and our earth is a tomb.
White shall not neutralize the black, nor good compensate bad in man, absolve him so: life's business being just the terrible choice.
The moment eternal - just that and no more - When ecstasy's utmost we clutch at the core While cheeks burn, arms open, eyes shut, and lips meet!
My business is not to remake myself, but to make the absolute best of what God made.
When he first started, it was all just natural talent. Now we have him sprinting, he's strengthening his legs, and I think he is going to reach 6-8 soon.
Good strong thick stupefying incense-smoke!
Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, The last of life, for which the first was made: Our times are in his hand Who saith,
My business is not to remake myself, But make the absolute best of what God made.
Or, my scrofulous French novel / On grey paper with blunt type! / Simply glance at it, you grovel / Hand and foot in Belial's gripe.
Philosophers, for the most part, are constitutionally timid, and dislike the unexpected. Few of them would be genuinely happy as pirates or burglars. Accordingly they invent systems which make the future calculable, at least in its main outlines
Let us not always say / `Spite of this flesh today / I strove, made head, gained ground upon the whole!' / As the bird wings and sings,/ Let us cry `All good things / Are ours, nor soul helps flesh more, now, than flesh helps soul.'
Progress, man's distinctive mark alone, Not God's, and not the beasts': God is, they are, Man partly is and wholly hopes to be
So, fall asleep love, loved by me... for I know love, I am loved by thee.
Where sportive ladies leave their doors ajar.
Let us try. To-morrow, how you shall be glad for this!
What's the earth With all its art, verse, music, worth - Compared with love, found, gained, and kept
Only I discern— Infinite passion, and the pain Of finite hearts that yearn.
The grand perhaps! We look on helplessly, there the old misgivings, crooked questions are.
Where had I been now if the worst befell? / And here we are riding, she and I.
What I aspired to be and was not, comforts me.
