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How strange now, looks the life he makes us lead So free we seem, so fettered fast we are!
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
Seems
Fetters
Looks
Fast
Life
Lead
Seem
Strange
Freedom
Free
Makes
Fettered
More quotes by Robert Browning
And let them pass, as they will too soon, With the bean-flowers' boon, And the blackbird's tune, And May, and June!
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When I love most, love is disguised. In hate and when hate is surprised, in love, then I hate most.
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Ignorance is not innocence but sin.
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Never brag, never bluster, never blush.
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Take away love and our earth is a tomb.
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What's a man's age? He must hurry more, that's all Cram in a day, what his youth took a year to hold.
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Heart, fear nothing, for, heart, thou shalt find her- Next time, herself!-not the trouble behind her
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A pretty woman's worth some pains to see.
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Truth is truth howe'er it strike.
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Might she have loved me? just as well She might have hated, who can tell!
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Love, hope, fear, faith - these make humanity These are its sign and note and character.
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Stand still, true poet that you are! I know you let me try and draw you. Some night you'll fail us: when afar You rise, remember one man saw you, Knew you, and named a star!
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But God has a few of us to whom he whispers in the ear The rest may reason and welcome 'tis we musicians know.
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The heavens and earth stay as they were my heart Beats as it beat: the truth remains the truth.
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God smiles as He has always smiled Ere suns and moons could wax and wane, Ere stars were thundergirt, or piled The Heavens, God thought on me His child Ordained a life for me, arrayed Its circumstances, every one To the minutest ay, God said This head this hand should rest upon Thus, ere He fashioned star or sun.
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Truth that peeps Over the glass's edge when dinner's done.
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Tis looking downward makes one dizzy.
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How good is life, the mere living!
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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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O woman-country! wooed not wed, Loved all the more by earth's male-lands, Laid to their hearts instead.
Robert Browning