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Never brag, never bluster, never blush.

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
Bluster
Blush
Brag
Bragging
Never

More quotes by Robert Browning

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Progress is The law of life: man is not Man as yet.
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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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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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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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Oh never star Was lost here but it rose afar.
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Mothers, wives and maids, These be the tools with which priests manage men.
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Time'swheelsrunsbackor stops: Potterand clayendure.
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The aim, if reached or not, makes great the life: Try to be Shakespeare, leave the rest to fate!
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Take away love and our earth is a tomb.
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If thou tastest a crust of bread, thou tastest all the stars and all the heavens.
Robert Browning
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Smiling the boy fell dead.
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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.
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The sad rhyme of the men who proudly clung To their first fault, and withered in their pride.
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Truth never hurt the teller.
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Lost, lost! one moment knelled the woe of years.
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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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The great beacon light God sets in all, the conscience of each bosom.
Robert Browning
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Praise is deeper than the lips
Robert Browning
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Again the Cousin's whistle! Go, my Love.
Robert Browning
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What of soul was left, I wonder, when the kissing had to stop?
Robert Browning