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Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made. Our times are in his hand who saith, 'A whole I planned, youth shows but half Trust God: See all, nor be afraid!
Robert Browning
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Robert Browning
Age: 77 †
Born: 1812
Born: May 7
Died: 1889
Died: December 12
Dramaturgy
Playwright
Poet
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London
England
Robert Barrett Browning
Browning
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Motivational
More quotes by Robert Browning
With this same key Shakespeare unlocked his heart once more! Did Shakespeare? If so, the less Shakespeare he!
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What's the earth With all its art, verse, music, worth — Compared with love, found, gained, and kept?
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Strike when thou wilt, the hour of rest, but let my last days be my best.
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The devil, that old stager, who leads downward, perhaps, but fiddles all the way!
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My care is for myself Myself am whole and sole reality.
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Tis looking downward makes one dizzy.
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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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Twere too absurd to slight For the hereafter the todays delight!
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The great beacon light God sets in all, the conscience of each bosom.
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How strange now, looks the life he makes us lead So free we seem, so fettered fast we are!
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how sad and bad and mad it was - but then, how it was sweet
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There is no truer truth obtainable by Man than comes of music
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Who knows most, doubts most entertaining hope means recognizing fear.
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The peerless cup afloat Of the lake-lily is an urn some nymph Swims bearing high above her head.
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How he lies in his rights of a man! Death has done all death can. And absorbed in the new life he leads, He recks not, he heeds Nor his wrong nor my vengeance both strike On his senses alike, And are lost in the solemn and strange Surprise of the change.
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Generations pass while some tree stands, and old families last not three oaks.
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I count life just a stuff To try the soul's strength on.
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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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Inscribe all human effort with one word, artistry's haunting curse, the Incomplete!
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A pretty woman's worth some pains to see.
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