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All will be gay when noontide wakes anew The buttercups, the little children's dower.

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
Children
Buttercups
Dower
Buttercup
Wakes
Anew
Gay
Littles
Little

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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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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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Success in marriage is more than finding the right person: it is being the right person.
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Inscribe all human effort with one word, artistry's haunting curse, the Incomplete!
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For the preacher's merit or demerit, It were to be wished that the flaws were fewer In the earthen vessel, holding treasure, But the main thing is, does it hold good measure Heaven soon sets right all other matters!
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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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The past is gained, secure, and on record.
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Was there nought better than to enjoy? No feat which, done, would make time break, And let us pent-up creatures through Into eternity, our due? No forcing earth teach heaven's employ?
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Fair or foul the lot apportioned life on earth, we bear alike.
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Who hears music feels his solitude peopled at once.
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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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Ignorance is not innocence but sin.
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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 trust in nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant and autumn garner to the end of time.
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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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Man partly is and wholly hopes to be.
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Pleasure must succeed to pleasure, else past pleasure turns to pain
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A lion may die of an ass's kick.
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Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
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