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May the good God pardon all good men.
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
Pardon
Goodness
May
Good
Men
More quotes by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Every age, Through being beheld too close, is ill-discerned By those who have not lived past it.
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
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.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Much of the possibility of being cheerful comes from the faculty of throwing oneself beyond oneself.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
He lives most life whoever breathes most air.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
And Chaucer, with his infantine Familiar clasp of things divine.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
She has seen the mystery hid Under Egypt's pyramid: By those eyelids pale and close Now she knows what Rhamses knows.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Too much beauty, I reckon, is nothing but too much sun.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Of writing many books there is no end.
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
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.
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
Very whitely still The lilies of our lives may reassure Their blossoms from their roots, accessible Alone to heavenly dews that drop not fewer Growing straight out of man's reach, on the hill. God only, who made us rich, can make us poor.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Men of science, osteologists And surgeons, beat some poets, in respect For nature,-count nought common or unclean, Spend raptures upon perfect specimens Of indurated veins, distorted joints, Or beautiful new cases of curved spine While we, we are shocked at nature's falling off, We dare to shrink back from her warts and blains.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Every wish Is like a prayer--with God.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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.
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
Measure not the work until the day's out and the labor done.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Gaze up at the stars knowing that I see the same sky and wish the same sweet dreams.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
What is art but the life upon the larger scale, the higher. When, graduating up in a spiral line of still expanding and ascending gyres, it pushes toward the intense significance of all things, hungry for the infinite?
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
