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What a thing friendship is - World without end.
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
Ends
Without
Thing
World
Friendship
More quotes by Robert Browning
Thou art my single day, God lends to leaven What were all earth else, with a feel of heaven.
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I do what many dream of, all their lives
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A pretty woman's worth some pains to see.
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Mothers, wives and maids, These be the tools with which priests manage men.
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Genius has somewhat of the infantine but of the childish not a touch or taint.
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How he lies in his rights of a man! Death has done all death can. And absorbed in the new life he leads, He recks not, he heeds Nor his wrong nor my vengeance both strike On his senses alike, And are lost in the solemn and strange Surprise of the change.
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Aspire, break bounds. Endeavor to be good, and better still, best.
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All good things Are ours, nor soul helps flesh more, now, than flesh helps soul!
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Out of your whole life give but a moment! All of your life that has gone before, All to come after it, -so you ignore, So you make perfect the present, condense, In a rapture of rage, for perfection's endowment, Thought and feeling and soul and sense.
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Never the time and the place And the loved one all together.
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Again the Cousin's whistle! Go, my Love.
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Over my head his arm he flung, Against the world.
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God's justice, tardy though it prove perchance, Rests never on the track until it reach Delinquency.
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To me at least was never evening yet, but seemed far beautifuller than its day.
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Twere too absurd to slight For the hereafter the todays delight!
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Other heights in other lives, God willing.
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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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Good strong thick stupefying incense-smoke!
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Oh, good gigantic smile o' the brown old earth, This autumn morning! How he sets his bones To bask i' the sun, and thrusts out knees and feet. From the ripple to run over in its mirth
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All service ranks the same with God,- With God, whose puppets, best and worst, Are we: there is no last nor first.
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