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The sea heaves up, hangs loaded o'er the land, Breaks there, and buries its tumultuous strength.
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
Sea
Strength
Land
Heaves
Break
Buries
Tumultuous
Hangs
Loaded
Breaks
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Stung by the splendour of a sudden thought.
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Over my head his arm he flung, Against the world.
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Truth never hurts the teller.
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If you can sit at set of sun And count the deeds that you have done And counting find oneself-denying act, one word That eased the heart of him that heard. One glance most kind, Which fell like sunshine where he went, Then you may count that day well spent.
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My sun sets to rise again.
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Good strong thick stupefying incense-smoke!
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All service ranks the same with God,- With God, whose puppets, best and worst, Are we: there is no last nor first.
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Italy, my Italy! Queen Mary's saying serves for me (When fortune's malice Lost her Calais): Open my heart, and you will see Graved inside of it 'Italy.'
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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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The lie was dead And damned, and truth stood up instead.
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The candid incline to surmise of late that the Christian faith proves false.
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When the liquor's out, why clink the cannikin?
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Would you have your songs endure? Build on the human heart.
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To me at least was never evening yet, but seemed far beautifuller than its day.
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The trouble that most of us find with the modern matched sets of clubs is that they don't really seem to know any more about the game than the old ones did.
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A face to lose youth for, to occupy age With the dream of, meet death with.
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Faultless to a fault.
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God be thanked, the meanest of his creatures Boasts two soul-sides, one to face the world with, One to show a woman when he loves her.
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With this same key Shakespeare unlocked his heart once more! Did Shakespeare? If so, the less Shakespeare he!
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That great brow And the spirit-small hand propping it.
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