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Of what I call God, And fools call Nature.

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
Fools
Fool
Call
Nature

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Lost, lost! one moment knelled the woe of years.
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Where the apple reddens never pry - lest we lose our Edens, Eve and I.
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Truth that peeps Over the glass's edge when dinner's done.
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I trust in nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant and autumn garner to the end of time.
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Truth never hurt the teller.
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Truth never hurts the teller.
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Best be yourself, imperial, plain, and true.
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Progress is The law of life: man is not Man as yet.
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Have you found your life distasteful? My life did, and does, smack sweet. Was your youth of pleasure wasteful? Mine I saved and hold complete. Do your joys with age diminish? When mine fail me, I'll complain. Must in death your daylight finish? My sun sets to rise again.
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All's love, yet all's law.
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There's a new tribunal now higher than God's -The educated man's!
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Man partly is and wholly hopes to be.
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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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Good to forgive, Best to forget.
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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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Fair or foul the lot apportioned life on earth, we bear alike.
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No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers, The heroes of old, Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears Of pain, darkness and cold.
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When the liquor's out, why clink the cannikin?
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I judge people by what they might be, - not are, nor will be.
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That great brow And the spirit-small hand propping it.
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