Quote

Then welcome each rebuff That turns earth's smoothness rough, Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand, but go! Be our joys three-parts pain! Strive, and hold cheap the strain Learn, nor account the pang dare, never grudge the throe!

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
Learning
Rough
Pang
Stand
Welcome
Bids
Turns
Accounts
Sting
Learn
Strive
Grudge
Pain
Dare
Joys
Three
Parts
Strain
Earth
Hold
Cheap
Rebuff
Never
Joy
Account
Smoothness

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All's love, yet all's law.
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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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Shakespeare was of us, Milton was of us, Burns, Shelley, were with us. They watch from their graves!
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For the preacher's merit or demerit, It were to be wished that the flaws were fewer In the earthen vessel, holding treasure, But the main thing is, does it hold good measure Heaven soon sets right all other matters!
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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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My care is for myself Myself am whole and sole reality.
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The past is gained, secure, and on record.
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But little do or can the best of us: That little is achieved through Liberty.
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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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Our aspirations are our responsibilities.
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Shun death, is my advice.
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Most progress is most failure.
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All we have gained then by our unbelief Is a life of doubt diversified by faith, For one of faith diversified by doubt: We called the chess-board white-we call it black.
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That great brow And the spirit-small hand propping it.
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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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Sorrow, the heart must bear, Sits in the home of each, conspicuous there. Many a circumstance, at least, Touches the very breast. For those Whom any sent away,--he knows: And in the live man's stead, Armor and ashes reach The house of each.
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Sing, riding 's a joy! For me I ride.
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Love is the energy of life.
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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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Youth means love, Vows can't change nature, priests are only men.
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