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Lost, lost! one moment knelled the woe of years.

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
Woe
Losing
Moment
Lost
Moments
Years

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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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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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The common problem, yours, mine, everyone's Is ? not to fancy what were fair in life Provided it could be ? but, finding first What may be, then find how to make it fair Up to our means.
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Inscribe all human effort with one word, artistry's haunting curse, the Incomplete!
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Over my head his arm he flung, Against the world.
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Strike when thou wilt, the hour of rest, but let my last days be my best.
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It 's wiser being good than bad It 's safer being meek than fierce It 's fitter being sane than mad. My own hope is, a sun will pierce The thickest cloud earth ever stretched That after Last returns the First, Though a wide compass round be fetched.
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Twere too absurd to slight For the hereafter the todays delight!
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Progress is The law of life: man is not Man as yet.
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I give the fight up: let there be an end, a privacy, an obscure nook for me. I want to be forgotten even by God.
Robert Browning
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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.
Robert Browning
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Truth is within ourselves. There is an inmost center in us all, where the truth abides in fullness.
Robert Browning
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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!
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All good things Are ours, nor soul helps flesh more, now, than flesh helps soul!
Robert Browning
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Most progress is most failure.
Robert Browning
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Believeth with the life, the pain shall stop.
Robert Browning
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The devil, that old stager, who leads downward, perhaps, but fiddles all the way!
Robert Browning
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Say not a small event! Why small? Costs it more pain that this ye call A great event should come to pass From that? Untwine me from the mass Of deeds which make up life, one deed Power shall fall short in or exceed!
Robert Browning
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Oh the wild joys of living! The leaping from rock to rock ... the cool silver shock of the plunge in a pool's living waters.
Robert Browning
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Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made. Our times are in his hand who saith, 'A whole I planned, youth shows but half Trust God: See all, nor be afraid!
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