Some people always sigh in thanking God.
Knowledge by suffering entereth And Life is perfected by Death.
He lives most life whoever breathes most air.
In the pleasant orchard closes, God bless all our gains', say we But May God bless all our losses' Better suits with our degree.
Said, Dear, I love thee; and I sank and quailed
As if God's future thundered on my past.
Men get opinions as boys learn to spell, By reiteration chiefly.
In souls, as countries, lieth silent-bare
Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare
Of the absolute heavens.
God, how the house feels!
First time he kissed me, he but only kissed The fingers of this hand wherewith I write; And, ever since, it grew more clean and white.
Indeed this very love which is my boast,
And which, when rising up from breast to brow,
Doth crown me with a ruby large enow
To draw men's eyes and prove the inner cost,-
This love even, all my worth, to the uttermost,
I should not love withal, unless that thou
Hadst set me an example, shown me how,
When first thine earnest eyes with mine were crossed,
And love called love.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.
You were made perfectly to be loved - and surely I have loved you, in the idea of you, my whole life long.
Gay words and jests may make us smile,
When Sorrow is asleep;
But other things must make us smile,
When Sorrow bids us weep!
Death forerunneth Love to win 'Sweetest eyes were ever seen.'
Like some small nimble mouse between the ribs Of a mastodon, I nibbled here and there At this or that box, pulling through the gap, In heats of terror, haste, victorious joy, The first book first.
But love me for love's sake, that evermore
Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity.
And, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
For I, a woman, have only known
How the heart melts and the tears run down.
The Greeks said grandly in their tragic phrase, 'Let no one be called happy till his death;' to which I would add, 'Let no one, till his death, be called unhappy.'
Then, drawing breath,
She struggled for her ordinary calm
And missed it rather, told me not to shrink,
As if she had told me not to lie or swear, --
`She loved my father, and would love me too
As long as I deserved it.
Light tomorrow with today!
His last word was, `Love --'
Love, my child, love, love!
Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west.
Come autumn's scathe come winter's cold
Come change and human fate!
Think, in mounting higher, The angels would press on us, and aspire To drop some golden orb of perfect song Into our deep, dear silence.
I see thine image through my tears to-night,
And yet to-day I saw thee smiling.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,-I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
And what I feel, across the inferior features
Of what I am, doth flash itself, and show
How that great work of Love enhances Nature's.
I think we are too ready with complaint
In this fair world of God's.
More Elizabeth Barrett Browning Quotations (Based on Topics)
Love - Man - God - Life - Sadness - Woman - Sense & Perception - Soul - World - Silence - Death & Dying - Heaven - Children - Grief - Books - Cry - Sleep - Light - Art - View All Elizabeth Barrett Browning Quotations
William Wordsworth - Virgil - Robert Frost - Rabindranath Tagore - Emily Dickinson - William Congreve - Thomas Gray - Robert Burns - Omar Khayyam - Max Jacob