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I heard an angel speak last night/And he said, Write!
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
Night
Writing
Angel
Heard
Lasts
Last
Speak
Write
More quotes by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless That only men incredulous of despair, half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air beat upward to god's throne in loud access of shrieking and reproach
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
In your patience ye are strong.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
A grave, on which to rest from singing?
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Pan is dead! great Pan is dead! Pan, Pan is dead!
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Love me sweet With all thou art Feeling, thinking, seeing Love me in the Lightest part, Love me in full Being.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Since when was genius found respectable?
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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
The music soars within the little lark, And the lark soars.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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
First time he kissed me, he but only kissed The fingers of this hand wherewith I write And, ever since, it grew more clean and white.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
My patience has dreadful chilblains from standing so long on a monument.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
And lilies are still lilies, pulled By smutty hands, though spotted from their white.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Or from Browning some Pomegranate, which if cut deep down the middle Shows a heart within blood-tinctured, of a veined humanity.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Will that light come again, As now these tears come...falling hot and real!
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
He lives most life whoever breathes most air.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
We can't separate our humanity from our poetry.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Eyes of gentianellas azure, Staring, winking at the skies.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
You smell a rose through a fence: If two should smell it, what matter?
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Of writing many books there is no end.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning