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Genius has somewhat of the infantine but of the childish not a touch or taint.

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
Childish
Somewhat
Touch
Genius
Taint

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Only I discern Infinite passion, and the pain Of finite hearts that yearn.
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I want to know a butcher paints, A baker rhymes for his pursuit, Candlestick-maker much acquaints His soul with song, or, haply mute, Blows out his brains upon the flute.
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Be sure they sleep not whom God needs.
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Inscribe all human effort with one word, artistry's haunting curse, the Incomplete!
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How good is life, the mere living!
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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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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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I judge people by what they might be, - not are, nor will be.
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Strike when thou wilt, the hour of rest, but let my last days be my best.
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Wander at will, Day after day,-- Wander away, Wandering still-- Soul that canst soar! Body may slumber: Body shall cumber Soul-flight no more.
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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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Ah, love, - you are my unutterable blessing.....I am in full sunshine now.
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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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how sad and bad and mad it was - but then, how it was sweet
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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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Oh, to be in England Now that April's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware.
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Good strong thick stupefying incense-smoke!
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Progress is The law of life: man is not Man as yet.
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Look not down but up!
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What a thing friendship is - World without end.
Robert Browning