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Every age, Through being beheld too close, is ill-discerned By those who have not lived past it.
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
Past
Every
Discerned
Beheld
Ill
Lived
Close
Age
More quotes by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Get leave to work In this world,--'tis the best you get at all.
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Whatever's lost, it first was won.
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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.
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Too much beauty, I reckon, is nothing but too much sun.
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No man can be called friendless who has God and the companionship of good books.
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Death forerunneth Love to win Sweetest eyes were ever seen.
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The plague of gold strikes far and near.
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I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
If we tried To sink the past beneath our feet, be sure The future would not stand.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
The least flower, with brimming cup, may stand and share its dew drop with another near.
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.
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How many desolate creatures on the earth have learnt the simple dues of fellowship and social comfort, in a hospital.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
The soul's Rialto hath its merchandise, I barter for curl upon that mart.
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truth outlives pain, as the soul does life.
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If thou must love me, let it be for naught except for love's sake only.
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Quick-loving hearts ... may quickly loathe.
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It was not the apple on the tree but the pair on the ground that caused the trouble in the garden of Eden.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
It is difficult to get rid of people when you once have given them too much pleasure.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Deep violets, you liken to The kindest eyes that look on you, Without a thought disloyal.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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
