Best 271 quotes of Robert Browning on MyQuotes

A face to lose youth for, to occupy age With the dream of, meet death with.

Again the Cousin's whistle! Go, my Love.

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

A lion may die of an ass's kick.

All good things Are ours, nor soul helps flesh more, now, than flesh helps soul!

All June I bound the rose in sheaves, Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves.

All poetry is difficult to read - The sense of it anyhow.

All service ranks the same with God,- With God, whose puppets, best and worst, Are we: there is no last nor first.

All the breath and the bloom of the year in the bag of one bee; All the wonder and wealth of the mine in the heart of one gem; In the core of one pearl all the shade and the shine of the sea; Breath and bloom, shade and shine,- wonder, wealth, and-how far above them- Truth, that's brighter than gem, Truth, that's purer than pearl,- Brightest truth, purest trust in the universe- all were for me In the kiss of one girl.

All we have gained then by our unbelief Is a life of doubt diversified by faith, For one of faith diversified by doubt: We called the chess-board white-we call it black.

All will be gay when noontide wakes anew The buttercups, the little children's dower.

Ambition is not what man does... but what man would do.

A minute's success pays the failure of years.

And I have written three books on the soul, Proving absurd all written hitherto, And putting us to ignorance again.

And inasmuch as feeling, the East's gift, Is quick and transient,- comes, and lo! is gone, While Northern thought is slow and durable.

And let them pass, as they will too soon, With the bean-flowers' boon, And the blackbird's tune, And May, and June!

Any nose may ravage with impunity a rose.

A pretty woman's worth some pains to see, Nor is she spoiled, I take it, if a crown Completes the forehead pale and tresses pure.

A pretty woman's worth some pains to see.

Are there not, dear Michael, Two points in the adventure of the diver,- One, when a beggar he prepares to plunge; One, when a prince he rises with his pearl? Festus, I plunge.

Art remains the one way possible of speaking truth.

As if true pride Were not also humble!

Aspire, break bounds. Endeavor to be good, and better still, best.

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

Autumn wins you best by this its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay.

A whole I planned, Youth shows but half; trust God: See all, nor be afraid!

Best be yourself, imperial, plain, and true.

Be sure that God Ne'er dooms to waste the strength he deigns impart.

Better have failed in the high aim, as I, Than vulgarly in the low aim succeed As, God be thanked! I do not.

Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!

But how carve way i' the life that lies before, If bent on groaning ever for the past?

But what if I fail of my purpose here? It is but to keep the nerves at strain, to dry one's eyes and laugh at a fall, and baffled, get up and begin again.

Day! Faster and more fast. O'er night's brim, day boils at last.

Days decrease, / And autumn grows, autumn in everything.

Dear, dead women, with such hair, too--what's become of all the gold Used to hang and brush their bosoms?

Death was past, life not come: so he waited.

Desire joy and thank God for it. Renounce it, if need be, for other's sake. That's joy beyond joy.

Earth being so good, would heaven seem best?

Earth changes, but thy soul and God stand sure.

Ever judge of men by their professions. For though the bright moment of promising is but a moment, and cannot be prolonged, yet if sincere in its moment's extravagant goodness, why, trust it, and know the man by it, I say,- not by his performance; which is half the world's work, interfere as the world needs must with its accidents and circumstances: the profession was purely the man's own. I judge people by what they might be,- not are, nor will be.

Every one soon or late comes round by Rome.

Fail I alone, in words and deeds? Why, all men strive and who succeeds?

Fair or foul the lot apportioned life on earth, we bear alike.

Finds progress, man's distinctive mark alone, Not God's, and not the beast's; God is, they are, Man partly is, and wholly hopes to be.

For life, with all its yields of joy and woe Is just a chance o' the prize of learning love.

For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, The black minute's at end, And the elements' rage, the fiend voices that rave, Shall dwindle, shall blend, Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain, Then a light, then thy breast, O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again, And with God be the rest!

For thence a paradox Which comforts while it mocks, - Shall life succeed in that it seems to fail: What I aspired to be, And was not, comforts me: A brute I might have been, but would not sink i' the scale.

For the preacher's merit or demerit, It were to be wished that the flaws were fewer In the earthen vessel, holding treasure, But the main thing is, does it hold good measure Heaven soon sets right all other matters!

From the sprinkled isles, Lily on lily, that o'erlace the sea.

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