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Of writing many books there is no end.
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
Books
Ends
Book
Many
Writing
More quotes by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
The man, most man, works best for men: and, if most man indeed, he gets his manhood plainest from his soul.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Beloved, let us live so well our work shall still be better for our love, and still our love be sweeter for our work.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
And that dismal cry rose slowly And sank slowly through the air, Full of spirit's melancholy And eternity's despair And they heard the words it said,- Pan is dead! great Pan is dead! Pan, Pan is dead!
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
But I love you, sir: And when a woman says she loves a man, The man must hear her, though he love her not.
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
Books are men of higher stature, and the only men that speak aloud for future times to hear.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
The charm, one might say the genius, of memory is that it is choosy, chancy and temperamental.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Quick-loving hearts ... may quickly loathe.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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.
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
XI I sang his name instead of song Over and over I sang his name: Backward and forward I sang it along, With my sweetest notes, it was still the same! I sang it low, that the slave-girls near Might never guess, from what they could hear, That all the song was a name.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
We overstate the ills of life, and take Imagination... down our earth to rake.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Since when was genius found respectable?
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
The critics could never mortify me out of heart - because I love poetry for its own sake, - and, tho' with no stoicism and some ambition, care more for my poems than for my poetic reputation.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
May the good God pardon all good men.
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
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.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Oh, a day in the city-square, there is no such pleasure in life!
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
