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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

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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
Feeling
Depth
Vow
Feelings
Thee
Breadth
Ends
Ideals
Valentine
Soul
Sight
Boyfriend
Way
Reach
Engagement
Love
Poetry
Height
Grace
Count
Ways
Ideal
Sonnet

More quotes by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

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Thou large-brain'd woman and large-hearted man.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Gaze up at the stars knowing that I see the same sky and wish the same sweet dreams.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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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.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Purple lilies Dante blew To a larger bubble with his prophet breath.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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A man may love a woman perfectly, and yet by no means ignorantly maintain a thousand women have not larger eyes. Enough that she alone has looked at him with eyes that, large or small, have won his soul.
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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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.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Nosegays! leave them for the waking, Throw them earthward where they grew Dim are such, beside the breaking Amaranths he looks unto. Folded eyes see brighter colors than the open ever do.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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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
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God answers sharp and sudden on some prayers, And thrusts the thing we have prayed for in our face, A gauntlet with a gift in it.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Behold me! I am worthy Of thy loving, for I love thee!
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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He lives most life whoever breathes most air.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Free men freely work: Whoever fears God, fears to sit at ease.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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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
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There Shakespeare, on whose forehead climb The crowns o' the world oh, eyes sublime With tears and laughter for all time!
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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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.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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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
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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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Where Christ brings His cross He brings His presence and where He is none are desolate, and there is no room for despair.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Sleep on, Baby, on the floor, Tired of all the playing, Sleep with smile the sweeter for That you dropped away in! On your curls' full roundness stand Golden lights serenely-- One cheek, pushed out by the hand, Folds the dimple inly.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning