Quotes
Quotes - Browning
There Shakespeare, on whose forehead climb
The crowns o' the world; oh, eyes sublime
With tears and laughter for all time!
And Chaucer, with his infantine
Familiar clasp of things divine.
And Marlowe, Webster, Fletcher, Ben,
Whose fire-hearts sowed our furrows when
The world was worthy of such men.
Knowledge by suffering entereth,
And life is perfected by death.
Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west.
And I smiled to think God's greatness flowed around our incompleteness,
Round our restlessness His rest.
Or from Browning some "Pomegranate," which if cut deep down the middle
Shows a heart within blood-tinctured, of a veined humanity.
But since he had
The genuis to be loved, why let him have
The justice to be honoured in his grave.
Thou large-brained woman and large-hearted man.
By thunders of white silence.
And that dismal cry rose slowly
And sank slowly through the air,
Full of spirit's melancholy
And eternity's despair;
And they heard the words it said,--
"Pan is dead! great Pan is dead!
Pan, Pan is dead!"
She has seen the mystery hid
Under Egypt's pyramid:
By those eyelids pale and close
Now she knows what Rhamses knows.
But so fair,
She takes the breath of men away
Who gaze upon her unaware.
"Yes," I answered you last night;
"No," this morning, sir, I say:
Colors seen by candle-light
Will not look the same by day.
Dreams of doing good
For good-for-nothing people.
God answers sharp and sudden on some prayers,
And thrusts the thing we have prayed for in our face,
A gauntlet with a gift in it.
The beautiful seems right
By force of Beauty, and the feeble wrong
Because of weakness.
Every wish
Is like a prayer--with God.
Good critics, who have stamped out poets' hope,
Good statesmen, who pulled ruin on the state,
Good patriots, who for a theory risked a cause.
Whoso loves
Believes the impossible.
The growing drama has outgrown such toys
Of simulated stature, face, and speech:
It also peradventure may outgrow
The simulation of the painted scene,
Boards, actors, prompters, gaslight, and costume,
And take for a worthier stage the soul itself,
Its shifting fancies and celestial lights,
With all its grand orchestral silences
To keep the pauses of its rhythmic sounds.
Since when was genius found respectable?
Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.
Any nose
May ravage with impunity a rose.
That we devote ourselves to God, is seen
In living just as though no God there were.
