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Good strong thick stupefying incense-smoke!
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
Smoke
Strong
Good
Stupefying
Incense
Catholicism
Thick
More quotes by Robert Browning
Was there nought better than to enjoy? No feat which, done, would make time break, And let us pent-up creatures through Into eternity, our due? No forcing earth teach heaven's employ?
Robert Browning
Stung by the splendour of a sudden thought.
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Why comes temptation but for man to meet And master and make crouch beneath his foot, And so be pedestaled in triumph?
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Again the Cousin's whistle! Go, my Love.
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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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There's a new tribunal now higher than God's -The educated man's!
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You should not take a fellow eight years old and make him swear to never kiss the girls.
Robert Browning
All's love, yet all's law.
Robert Browning
Twere too absurd to slight For the hereafter the todays delight!
Robert Browning
Inscribe all human effort with one word, artistry's haunting curse, the Incomplete!
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Truth never hurt the teller.
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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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Let's contend no more, Love, Strive nor weep: All be as before Love, - Only sleep.
Robert Browning
What I aspired to be and was not, comforts me.
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Truth is within ourselves.
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O never star Was lost here We all aspire to heaven and there is heaven Above us. If I stoop Into a dark tremendous sea of cloud, It is but for a time I press God's lamp Close to my breast its splendor soon or late Will pierce the gloom. I shall emerge some day.
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Other heights in other lives, God willing.
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Mothers, wives and maids, These be the tools with which priests manage men.
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A minute's success pays the failure of years.
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Mid the sharp, short emerald wheat, scarce risen three fingers well, The wild tulip at the end of its tube, blows out its great red bell, Like a thin clear bubble of blood, for the children to pick and sell.
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