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What is art but the 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
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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
Upon
Scales
Spiral
Art
Intense
Spirals
Stills
Hungry
Pushes
Still
Infinite
Graduates
Things
Toward
Expanding
Life
Line
Scale
Higher
Significance
Graduating
Lines
Larger
Ascending
More quotes by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
May the good God pardon all good men.
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Death forerunneth Love to win Sweetest eyes were ever seen.
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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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Love me sweet With all thou art Feeling, thinking, seeing Love me in the Lightest part, Love me in full Being.
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And Chaucer, with his infantine Familiar clasp of things divine.
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Children use the fist until they are of age to use the brain.
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Since when was genius found respectable?
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Who so loves believes the impossible.
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Thou large-brain'd woman and large-hearted man.
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Anybody is qualified, according to everybody, for giving opinions upon poetry. It is not so in chemistry and mathematics. Nor is it so, I believe, in whist and the polka. But then these are more serious things.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Oh, a day in the city-square, there is no such pleasure in life!
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You were made perfectly to be loved - and surely I have loved you, in the idea of you, my whole life long.
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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.
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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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Eyes of gentianellas azure, Staring, winking at the skies.
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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.
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Sing, seraph with the glory! heaven is high. Sing, poet with the sorrow! earth is low. The universe's inward voices cry Amen to either song of joy and woe. Sing, seraph, poet! sing on equally!
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Happy are all free peoples, too strong to be dispossessed. But blessed are those among nations who dare to be strong for the rest!
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As the moths around a taper, As the bees around a rose, As the gnats around a vapour, So the spirits group and close Round about a holy childhood, as if drinking its repose.
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We can't separate our humanity from our poetry.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning