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The aim, if reached or not, makes great the life: Try to be Shakespeare, leave the rest to fate!

Robert Browning

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Robert Browning
Age: 77 †
Born: 1812
Born: May 7
Died: 1889
Died: December 12
Dramaturgy
Playwright
Poet
Writer
London
England
Robert Barrett Browning
Browning
Trying
Shakespeare
Life
Reached
Aim
Fate
Rest
Leave
Makes
Great

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There is no truer truth obtainable by Man than comes of music
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One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, never doubted clouds would break, Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, sleep to wake.
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Truth is within ourselves.
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Hatred and cark and care, what place have they / In yon blue liberality of heaven?.
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You never know what life means till you die even throughout life, tis death that makes life live.
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Oh, good gigantic smile o' the brown old earth, This autumn morning! How he sets his bones To bask i' the sun, and thrusts out knees and feet. From the ripple to run over in its mirth
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Let friend trust friends, and love demand love's like.
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I judge people by what they might be, - not are, nor will be.
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The common problem, yours, mine, everyone's Is ? not to fancy what were fair in life Provided it could be ? but, finding first What may be, then find how to make it fair Up to our means.
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A man in armor is his armor's slave.
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Never brag, never bluster, never blush.
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Thou art my single day, God lends to leaven What were all earth else, with a feel of heaven.
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The sad rhyme of the men who proudly clung To their first fault, and withered in their pride.
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Then welcome each rebuff That turns earth's smoothness rough, Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand, but go! Be our joys three-parts pain! Strive, and hold cheap the strain Learn, nor account the pang dare, never grudge the throe!
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What a name! Was it love or praise? Speech half-asleep or song half-awake? I must learn Spanish, one of these days, Only for that slow sweet name's sake.
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Tis looking downward makes one dizzy.
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A lion may die of an ass's kick.
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In heaven I yearn for knowledge, account all else inanity On earth I confess an itch for the praise of fools - that's vanity
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But there are times when patience proves at fault.
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Praise is deeper than the lips
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