Robert Browning Quotes - Page 7

Oh never star Was lost here but it rose afar.

A man in armour is his armour's slave.

It was roses, roses, all the way, With myrtle mixed in my path like mad.

Make us happy and you make us good.

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

We mortals cross the ocean of this world Each in his average cabin of a life; The bests not big, the worst yields elbowroom.

Generations pass while some tree stands, and old families last not three oaks.

Youth means love, Vows can't change nature, priests are only men.

What a name! Was it love or praise? Speech half-asleep or song half-awake? I must learn Spanish, one of these days, Only for that slow sweet name's sake.

The common problem, yours, mine, everyone's Is ? not to fancy what were fair in life Provided it could be ? but, finding first What may be, then find how to make it fair Up to our means.

Man seeks his own good at the whole world's cost.

Can we love but on condition that the thing we love must die?

In the first is the last, in thy will is my power to believe.

That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, lest you should think he never could recapture the first fine careless rapture!

But God has a few of us to whom he whispers in the ear; The rest may reason and welcome; 'tis we musicians know.

If thou tastest a crust of bread, thou tastest all the stars and all the heavens.

What? Was man made a wheel-work to wind up, And be discharged, and straight wound up anew? No! grown, his growth lasts; taught, he ne'er forgets: May learn a thousand things, not twice the same.

Believeth with the life, the pain shall stop.

O world, as God has made it! All is beauty.

But how carve way i' the life that lies before, If bent on groaning ever for the past?

Pippa's Song The year's at the spring The day's at the morn Morning's at seven, The Hill side's dew-pearled The lark's on the wing The snail's on the thorn God's in his heaven- All's right with the world

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.

Any nose may ravage with impunity a rose.

The sea heaves up, hangs loaded o'er the land, Breaks there, and buries its tumultuous strength.

Other heights in other lives, God willing.