Quote

I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints,-I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life!-and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

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
Love
Loses
Saint
Life
Shall
Thee
Griefs
Passion
Seemed
Sonnet
Faith
Grief
Vow
Use
Childhood
Smiles
Lost
Tears
Saints
Death
Choose
Breath
Better
Lose
Breaths

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The least flower, with brimming cup, may stand and share its dew drop with another near.
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A child's kiss Set on thy sighing lips shall make thee glad A poor man served by thee shall make thee rich A sick man helped by thee shall make thee strong Thou shalt be served thyself by every sense Of service which thou renderest.
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Free men freely work: Whoever fears God, fears to sit at ease.
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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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And there my little doves did sit With feathers softly brown And glittering eyes that showed their right To general Nature's deep delight.
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Children use the fist until they are of age to use the brain.
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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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Quick-loving hearts ... may quickly loathe.
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A woman's always younger than a man at equal years.
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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 denial of contemporary genius is the rule rather than the exception. No one counts the eagles in the nest, till there is a rush of wings and lo! they are flown.
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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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Who so loves believes the impossible.
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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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World's use is cold, world's love is vain, world's cruelty is bitter bane but is not the fruit of pain.
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Pan is dead! great Pan is dead! Pan, Pan is dead!
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Men get opinions as boys learn to spell by reiteration chiefly.
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I heard an angel speak last night/And he said, Write!
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The man, most man, Works best for men, and, if most men indeed, He gets his manhood plainest from his soul: While, obviously, this stringent soul itself Obeys our old rules of development The Spirit ever witnessing in ours, And Love, the soul of soul, within the soul, Evolving it sublimely.
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We can't separate our humanity from our poetry.
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