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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

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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
Till
Unhappy
Grandly
Called
Greeks
Happiness
Phrase
Happy
Phrases
Death
Tragic
Would
Greek
Add

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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.
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Too much beauty, I reckon, is nothing but too much sun.
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It is difficult to get rid of people when you once have given them too much pleasure.
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O, brothers! let us leave the shame and sin Of taking vainly in a plaintive mood, The holy name of Grief--holy herein, That, by the grief of One, came all our good.
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The man, most man, works best for men: and, if most man indeed, he gets his manhood plainest from his soul.
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She has seen the mystery hid Under Egypt's pyramid: By those eyelids pale and close Now she knows what Rhamses knows.
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It was not the apple on the tree but the pair on the ground that caused the trouble in the garden of Eden.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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The soul hath snatched up mine all faint and weak,And placed it by thee on a golden throne,-- And that I love (O soul, we must be meek!)Is by thee only, whom I love alone.
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There's nothing great Nor small, has said a poet of our day, Whose voice will ring beyond the curfew of eve And not be thrown out by the matin's bell.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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An ignorance of means may minister to greatness, but an ignorance of aims make it impossible to be great at all.
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Neither love me for Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry, A creature might forget to weep, who bore Thy comfort long, and lose thy love, thereby! But love me for love's sake, that evermore Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity.
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And Chaucer, with his infantine Familiar clasp of things divine.
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Eyes of gentianellas azure, Staring, winking at the skies.
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What frightens me is that men are content with what is not life at all.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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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
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Oh, a day in the city-square, there is no such pleasure in life!
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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The charm, one might say the genius, of memory is that it is choosy, chancy and temperamental.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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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.
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In this abundant earth no doubt Is little room for things worn out: Disdain them, break them, throw them by! And if before the days grew rough We once were lov'd, us'd -- well enough, I think, we've far'd, my heart and I.
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I would not be a rose upon the wall A queen might stop at, near the palace-door, To say to a courtier, Pluck that rose for me, It's prettier than the rest. O Romney Leigh! I'd rather far be trodden by his foot, Than lie in a great queen's bosom.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning