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The devil, that old stager, who leads downward, perhaps, but fiddles all the way!
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
Downward
Fiddle
Leads
Devil
Perhaps
Way
More quotes by Robert Browning
Tis Man's to explore up and down, inch by inch, with the taper his reason.
Robert Browning
The lie was dead And damned, and truth stood up instead.
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Grow old with me! The best is yet to be.
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What I aspired to be and was not, comforts me.
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Never the time and the place And the loved one all together.
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Stung by the splendour of a sudden thought.
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Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
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Desire joy and thank God for it. Renounce it, if need be, for other's sake. That's joy beyond joy.
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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
He guides me and the bird. In His good time!
Robert Browning
Generations pass while some tree stands, and old families last not three oaks.
Robert Browning
Where the apple reddens never pry - lest we lose our Edens, Eve and I.
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The great mind knows the power of gentleness.
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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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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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Go in thy native innocence, rely On what thou hast of virtue, summon all, For God towards thee hath done his part, do thine.
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White shall not neutralize the black, nor good compensate bad in man, absolve him so life's business being just the terrible choice.
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Be sure they sleep not whom God needs.
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Might she have loved me? just as well She might have hated, who can tell!
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All we have gained then by our unbelief Is a life of doubt diversified by faith, For one of faith diversified by doubt: We called the chess-board white-we call it black.
Robert Browning