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Sing, riding 's a joy! For me I ride.

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
Joy
Riding
Ride
Sing

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Thought is the soul of act.
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One wise man's verdict outweighs all the fools'.
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Over my head his arm he flung, Against the world.
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To do good things in the world, first you must know who you are and what gives meaning to your life.
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The ultimate, angels' law, Indulging every instinct of the soul There where law, life, joy, impulse are one thing!
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With this same key Shakespeare unlocked his heart once more! Did Shakespeare? If so, the less Shakespeare he!
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A face to lose youth for, to occupy age With the dream of, meet death with.
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Time'swheelsrunsbackor stops: Potterand clayendure.
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And gain is gain, however small.
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The candid incline to surmise of late that the Christian faith proves false.
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To me at least was never evening yet, but seemed far beautifuller than its day.
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Best be yourself, imperial, plain, and true.
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Strike when thou wilt, the hour of rest, but let my last days be my best.
Robert Browning
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Italy, my Italy! Queen Mary's saying serves for me (When fortune's malice Lost her Calais): Open my heart, and you will see Graved inside of it 'Italy.'
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If thou tastest a crust of bread, thou tastest all the stars and all the heavens.
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Truth is within ourselves. There is an inmost center in us all, where the truth abides in fullness.
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Shun death, is my advice.
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In this world, who can do a thing, will not And who would do it, cannot, I perceive: Yet the will's somewhat — somewhat, too, the power — And thus we half-men struggle.
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The peerless cup afloat Of the lake-lily is an urn some nymph Swims bearing high above her head.
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Unless you can love, as the angels may, With the breadth of heaven betwixt you Unless you can dream that his faith is fast, Through behoving and unbeloving Unless you can die when the dream is past- Oh, never call it loving!
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