Robert Browning Quotes (332 Quotes)

Irks care the crop-full bird Frets doubt the maw-crammed beast.

Rub all out, try at it a second time.

Oh, to be in England now that April's there.

Rafael is waiting: up to God, all three!

There 's a woman like a dewdrop, she 's so purer than the purest. A Blot in the 'Scutcheon.

Nay but you, who do not love her, Is she not pure gold, my mistress

On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven a perfect round.

She will not give me heaven?

Where my heart lies let my brain lie also.

God is the perfect poet.

My sun sets to rise again.

And I have written three books on the soul, Proving absurd all written hitherto, And putting us to ignorance again.

It is the glory and the good of Art, That Art remains the one way possible Of speaking truth, to minds like mine at least.

Just for a handful of silver he left us, Just for a riband to stick in his coat.

Faultless to a fault.

Where the heart lies, let the brain lie also.

It was roses, roses all the way.

Shakespeare was with us, Milton was for us Burns, Shelley, were with us, - they watch from their graves.

Grow old with me The best is yet to be, The last of life, For which, the first is made.

Nobly, nobly Cape Saint Vincent to the North-west died away Sunset ran, one glorious blood-red, reeking into Cadiz bay.

Beside, our losses have made us thrifty.

Unless God send his hail Or blinding fire balls, sleet or stifling snow, In some time, his good time, I shall arrive.

I trust in nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant and autumn garner to the end of time.

The lie was dead And damned, and truth stood up instead.

And, Robert Browning, you writer of plays, Here's a subject made to your hand

God be thanked, the meanest of his creatures Boasts two soul-sides,one to face the world with, One to show a woman when he loves her.

Never may I commence my song, my due To God who best taught song by gift of thee, Except with bent head and beseeching hand - That still, despite the distance and the dark, What was, again may be.

Why with beauty, needs there money be-
Love with liking?

The sad rhyme of the men who proudly clung To their first fault, and withered in their pride.

Thy soul is in thy face.

Others mistrust and say But time escapes - live now or never He said What's time Leave Now for dogs and apes - Man has For ever

O lyric Love, half angel and half bird. And all a wonder and a wild desire.