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I love thee to the level of everyday's most quiet need, by sun and candle light...I love thee with the breath,smiles,t ears,of all my life.
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
Light
Breaths
Need
Thee
Needs
Ears
Love
Everyday
Life
Sun
Vow
Quiet
Smiles
Level
Candle
Levels
Breath
More quotes by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Books succeed and lives fail.
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Who so loves believes the impossible.
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Oh, a day in the city-square, there is no such pleasure in life!
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If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange And be all to me?
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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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Purple lilies Dante blew To a larger bubble with his prophet breath.
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Or from Browning some Pomegranate, which if cut deep down the middle Shows a heart within blood-tinctured, of a veined humanity.
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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.
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Books are men of higher stature, and the only men that speak aloud for future times to hear.
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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.
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Behold me! I am worthy Of thy loving, for I love thee!
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A good neighbor sometimes cuts your morning up to mince-meat of the very smallest talk, then helps to sugar her bohea at night with your reputation.
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Many a fervid man writes books as cold and flat as graveyard stones.
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You're something between a dream and a miracle.
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A woman's always younger than a man at equal years.
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You smell a rose through a fence: If two should smell it, what matter?
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My patience has dreadful chilblains from standing so long on a monument.
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Souls are gregarious in a sense, but no soul touches another, as a general rule.
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The beautiful seems right by force of beauty and the feeble wrong because of weakness.
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He lives most life whoever breathes most air.
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