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First time he kissed me, he but only kissed The fingers of this hand wherewith I write And, ever since, it grew more clean and white.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Age: 55 †
Born: 1806
Born: March 6
Died: 1861
Died: June 30
Essayist
Pamphleteer
Poet
Screenwriter
Translator
Durham
England
Mrs. Browning
Elizabeth Barrett Barrett
Elizabeth Barrett-Browning
Elizaveta Barrett Brauning
Firsts
Clean
First
Grew
Writing
Hand
Time
Since
White
Wherewith
Write
Kissed
Hands
Kissing
Ever
Fingers
More quotes by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
An ignorance of means may minister to greatness, but an ignorance of aims make it impossible to be great at all.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
O rose, who dares to name thee? No longer roseate now, nor soft, nor sweet, But pale, and hard, and dry, as stubblewheat, Kept seven years in a drawer, thy titles shame thee.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Pan is dead! great Pan is dead! Pan, Pan is dead!
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Books succeed and lives fail.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
O pusillanimous Heart, be comforted And, like a cheerful traveller, take the road Singing beside the hedge.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Many a fervid man writes books as cold and flat as graveyard stones.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Love that endures, from life that disappears!
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
OF writing many books there is no end And I who have written much in prose and verse For others' uses, will write now for mine,- Will write my story for my better self, As when you paint your portrait for a friend, Who keeps it in a drawer and looks at it Long after he has ceased to love you, just To hold together what he was and is.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
My future will not copy my fair past, I wrote that once. And, thinking at my side my ministering life-angel justified the word by his appealing look upcast to the white throne of God.
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, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
For me, my heart, that erst did go Most like a tired child at a show, That sees through tears the mummers leap, Would now its wearied vision close, Would childlike on His love repose, Who giveth His Beloved, sleep.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Deep violets, you liken to The kindest eyes that look on you, Without a thought disloyal.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How joyously the young sea-mew Lay dreaming on the waters blue, Whereon our little bark had thrown A little shade, the only one But shadows ever man pursue.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
And that dismal cry rose slowly And sank slowly through the air, Full of spirit's melancholy And eternity's despair And they heard the words it said,- Pan is dead! great Pan is dead! Pan, Pan is dead!
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Men of science, osteologists And surgeons, beat some poets, in respect For nature,-count nought common or unclean, Spend raptures upon perfect specimens Of indurated veins, distorted joints, Or beautiful new cases of curved spine While we, we are shocked at nature's falling off, We dare to shrink back from her warts and blains.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Men get opinions as boys learn to spell by reiteration chiefly.
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 wish I were the lily's leaf To fade upon that bosom warm, Content to wither, pale and brief, The trophy of thy paler form.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Definition of Love: A score of zero in tennis. I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears of all my life.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
You believe In God, for your part?--that He who makes Can make good things from ill things, best from worst, As men plant tulips upon dunghills when They wish them finest.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning