Elizabeth Barrett Browning

A woman's always younger than a man at equal years.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

What is art but life upon the larger scale, the higher. When, graduating up in a spiral line of still expanding and ascending gyres, it pushes toward the intense significance of all things, hungry for the infinite?

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The beautiful seems right by force of beauty, and the feeble wrong because of weakness.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Books, books, books had found the secret of a garret-room piled high with cases in my father's name; Piled high, packed large, --where, creeping in and out among the giant fossils of my past, like some small nimble mouse between the ribs of a mastodon, I nibbled here and there at this or that box, pulling through the gap, in heats of terror, haste, victorious joy, the first book first. And how I felt it beat under my pillow, in the morning's dark. An hour before the sun would let me read! My books!

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Books succeed, and lives fail.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

But the child's sob curses deeper in the silence than the strong man in his wrath!

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The world's male chivalry has perished out, but women are knights-errant to the last; and, if Cervantes had been greater still, he had made his Don a Donna.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

For 'Tis not in mere death that men die most.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

What monster have we here? A great Deed at this hour of day? A great just deed -- and not for pay? Absurd -- or insincere?

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The devil's most devilish when respectable.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

At painful times, when composition is impossible and reading is not enough, grammars and dictionaries are excellent for distraction.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Girls blush, sometimes, because they are alive, half wishing they were dead to save the shame. The sudden blush devours them, neck and brow; They have drawn too near the fire of life, like gnats, and flare up bodily, wings and all. What then? Who's sorry for a gnat or girl?

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Experience, like a pale musician, holds a dulcimer of patience in his hand.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

If you desire faith, then you have faith enough.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

What is genius but the power of expressing a new individuality?

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Since when was genius found respectable?

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

We all have known good critics, who have stamped out poet's hopes; Good statesmen, who pulled ruin on the state; Good patriots, who, for a theory, risked a cause; Good kings, who disemboweled for a tax; Good Popes, who brought all good to jeopardy; Good Christians, who sat still in easy-chairs; And damned the general world for standing up. Now, may the good God pardon all good men!

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

This race is never grateful: from the first, One fills their cup at supper with pure wine, Which back they give at cross-time on a sponge, In bitter vinegar.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

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.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How many desolate creatures on the earth have learnt the simple dues of fellowship and social comfort, in a hospital.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The works of women are symbolical. We sew, sew, prick our fingers, dull our sight, producing what? A pair of slippers, sir, to put on when you're weary -- or a stool. To stumble over and vex you... curse that stool! Or else at best, a cushion, where you lean and sleep, and dream of something we are not, but would be for your sake. Alas, alas! This hurts most, this... that, after all, we are paid the worth of our work, perhaps.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Who so loves believes the impossible.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The man, most man, works best for men: and, if most man indeed, he gets his manhood plainest from his soul.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Women know the way to rear up children (to be just). They know a simple, merry, tender knack of tying sashes, fitting baby-shoes, and stringing pretty words that make no sense. And kissing full sense into empty words.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

A good neighbor sometimes cuts your morning up to mince-meat of the very smallest talk, then helps to sugar her bohea at night with your reputation.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Hurt a fly! He would not for the world: he's pitiful to flies even. Sing, says he, and tease me still, if that's your way, poor insect.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Men get opinions as boys learn to spell by reiteration chiefly.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

It is not merely the likeness which is precious... but the association and the sense of nearness involved in the thing... the fact of the very shadow of the person lying there fixed forever! It is the very sanctification of portraits I think -- and it is not at all monstrous in me to say that I would rather have such a memorial of one I dearly loved, than the noblest Artist's work ever produced.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

God answers sharp and sudden on some prayers and thrust the thing we have prayed for in our face, like a gauntlet with a gift in it.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

And lips say God be pitiful, who never said, God be praised.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Let no one till his death be called unhappy. Measure not the work until the day's out and the labor done.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Eve is a twofold mystery.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

A woman cannot do the thing she ought, which means whatever perfect thing she can, in life, in art, in science, but she fears to let the perfect action take her part and rest there: she must prove what she can do before she does it, -- prate of woman's rights, of woman's mission, woman's function, till the men (who are prating, too, on their side) cry, A woman's function plainly is... to talk. Poor souls, they are very reasonably vexed!

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Measure not the work until the day's out and the labor's done.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

He, in his developed manhood, stood, a little sunburn by the glare of life.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Happy are all free peoples, too strong to be dispossessed. But blessed are those among nations who dare to be strong for the rest!

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me. I love you for the part of me that you bring out.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

. . . this cheek and brow, Whose paleness, burne'd in with heats of thought, Would make an angel smile to see how ill Clay thrust from Paradise consorts with mind-

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Still mine! maternal rights serene Not given to another! The crystal bars shine faint between The souls of child and mother.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning