Quote

Who can fear Too many stars, though each in heaven shall roll- Too many flowers, though each shall crown the year? Say thou dost love me, love me, love me-toll The silver iterance!-only minding, Dear, To love me also in silence, with thy soul.

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
Heaven
Thou
Dost
Fear
Dear
Toll
Also
Flower
Tolls
Soul
Silence
Crown
Many
Shall
Crowns
Years
Stars
Silver
Love
Year
Roll
Life
Though
Flowers
Minding

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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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I heard an angel speak last night/And he said, Write!
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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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Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers?
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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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The exchange of sympathy for gratitude is the most princely thing!
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Folded eyes see brighter colors than the open ever do.
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Children use the fist until they are of age to use the brain.
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Deep violets, you liken to The kindest eyes that look on you, Without a thought disloyal.
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Very whitely still The lilies of our lives may reassure Their blossoms from their roots, accessible Alone to heavenly dews that drop not fewer Growing straight out of man's reach, on the hill. God only, who made us rich, can make us poor.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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My patience has dreadful chilblains from standing so long on a monument.
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What frightens me is that men are content with what is not life at all.
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When we first met and loved, I did not build Upon the event with marble. . . .
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O brave poets, keep back nothing Nor mix falsehood with the whole! Look up Godward! speak the truth in Worthy song from earnest soul! Hold, in high poetic duty, Truest Truth the fairest Beauty.
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Many a fervid man writes books as cold and flat as graveyard stones.
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Get work, get work Be sure 'tis better than what you work to get.
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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If we tried To sink the past beneath our feet, be sure The future would not stand.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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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
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The large white owl that with eye is blind, That hath sate for years in the old tree hollow, Is carried away in a gust of wind.
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