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Thought is the soul of act.

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
Thought
Soul

More quotes by Robert Browning

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Sing, riding 's a joy! For me I ride.
Robert Browning
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Where the apple reddens never pry - lest we lose our Edens, Eve and I.
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He who did well in war just earns the right, To begin doing well in peace.
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The past is gained, secure, and on record.
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The sea heaves up, hangs loaded o'er the land, Breaks there, and buries its tumultuous strength.
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A lion may die of an ass's kick.
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What a thing friendship is - World without end.
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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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O never star Was lost here We all aspire to heaven and there is heaven Above us. If I stoop Into a dark tremendous sea of cloud, It is but for a time I press God's lamp Close to my breast its splendor soon or late Will pierce the gloom. I shall emerge some day.
Robert Browning
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Over my head his arm he flung, Against the world.
Robert Browning
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Tis Man's to explore up and down, inch by inch, with the taper his reason.
Robert Browning
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Believeth with the life, the pain shall stop.
Robert Browning
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I do what many dream of, all their lives
Robert Browning
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Have you found your life distasteful? My life did, and does, smack sweet. Was your youth of pleasure wasteful? Mine I saved and hold complete. Do your joys with age diminish? When mine fail me, I'll complain. Must in death your daylight finish? My sun sets to rise again.
Robert Browning
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Would you have your songs endure? Build on the human heart.
Robert Browning
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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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Shun death, is my advice.
Robert Browning
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Grow old with me! The best is yet to be.
Robert Browning
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Look not down but up!
Robert Browning
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All will be gay when noontide wakes anew The buttercups, the little children's dower.
Robert Browning