Quotes by Robert Browning

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Robert Browning (May 7, 1812 December 12, 1889) was an English poet and playwright. more

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When the fight begins within himself, a man's worth something.

Take away love and our earth is a tomb.
So free we seem, so fettered we are!
Man partly is and wholly hopes to be.
Where the heart lies, let the brain lie also.
Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, The last of life, for which the first was made.
The aim, if reached or not, makes great the life: try to be Shakespeare, leave the rest to fate!
It is best to be yourself, imperial, plain and true.
I give the fight up: let there be an end, a privacy, an obscure nook for me. I want to be forgotten even by God.
Truth never hurts the teller.
Stung by the splendor of a sudden thought.
Truth lies within ourselves: it takes no rise from outward things, whatever you may believe. There is an inmost center in us all, where truth abides in fullness and to Know rather consists in opening out a way whence the imprisoned splendor may escape than in effecting entry for light supposed to be without.
Our aspirations are our possibilities.
A minute's success pays the failure of years.
What Youth deemed crystal, Age finds out was dew.
Oh the wild joys of living! The leaping from rock to rock ... the cool silver shock of the plunge in a pool's living waters.
O lyric Love, half angel and half bird. And all a wonder and a wild desire.
Autumn wins you best by this its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay.
Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, or what's a heaven for?
The grand perhaps! We look on helplessly, there the old misgivings, crooked questions are.
I count life just a stuff to try the soul's strength on.
Never the time and the place and the loved one all together!
Go practice if you please with men and women: leave a child alone for Christ's particular love's sake!
That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, lest you should think he never could recapture the first fine careless rapture!
Ignorance is not innocence, but sin.
A man's reach should exceed his grasp, or what's heaven for?
And gain is gain, however small.
Our interest's on the dangerous edge of things. The honest thief, the tender murderer, the superstitious atheist.
Inscribe all human effort with one word, artistry's haunting curse, the Incomplete!
There's a new tribunal now higher than God's --The educated man s!
Where the apple reddens never pry -- lest we lose our Edens, Eve and I.
One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, never doubted clouds would break, Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph,
Good strong thick stupefying incense-smoke!
Ambition is not what man does... but what man would do.
What I aspired to be and was not, comforts me.
Tis not what man does which exalts him, 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.
Must a little weep, Love, Foolish me! And so fall asleep, Love, Loved by thee.
The year's at the spring; And day's at the morn; Morning's at seven; The hill-side's dew-pearled; The lark's on the wing; The snail's on the thorn: God's in his heaven, All's right with the world!
Make no more giants, God!But elevate the race at once!
Ah, but a mans reach should exceed his grasp,Or whats a heaven for?
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.
Oh, to be in England Now that April's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware, That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf.
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

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