Quotes
Quotes - Browning
Why comes temptation, but for man to meet and master and crouch beneath his foot, and so be pedestaled in triumph?
A woman's always younger than a man of equal years.
Stung by the splendour of a sudden thought.
Light tomorrow with today.
The place is all awave with trees, Limes, myrtles, purple-beaded, Acacias having drunk the lees Of the night-dew, fain headed, And wan, grey olive-woods, which seem The fittest foliage for a dream.
Pray, pray, thou who also weepest,-- And the drops will slacken so; Weep, weep--and the watch thou keepest, With a quicker count will go. Think,--the shadow on the dial For the nature most undone, Marks the passing of the trial, Proves the presence of the sun.
Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, Or what's a heaven for?
Let no one till his death be called unhappy. Measure not the work until the day's out and the labor done.
Deep violets, you liken to The kindest eyes that look on you, Without a thought disloyal.
Her voice changed like a bird's: There grew more of the music, and less of the words.
Every wish Is like a prayer--with God.
You forget too much That every creature, female as the male, Stands single in responsible act and thought As also in birth and death.
A worthless woman! mere cold clay As all false things are! but so fair, She takes the breath of men away Who gaze upon her unaware: I would not play her larcenous tricks To have her looks!
"Yes," I answered you last night; "No," this morning, sir, I say: Colors seen by candle-light Will not look the same by day.
By the way, The works of women are symbolical. We sew, sew, prick our fingers, dull out sight, Producing what? A pair of slippers, sir, To put on when you're weary--or a stool To tumble over and vex you . . . curse that stool! Or else at best, a cushion where you lean And sleep, and dream of something we are not, But would be for your sake. Alas, alas! This hurts most, this . . . that, after all, we are paid The worth of our work, perhaps.
Get leave to work In this world,--'tis the best you get at all.
Let no one till his death Be called unhappy. Measure not the work Until the day's out and the labour done.
Free men freely work: Whoever fears God, fears to sit at ease.
In this bad, twisted, topsy-turvy world, Where all the heaviest wrongs get uppermost.
O world as God has made it! All is beauty.
He, in his developed manhood, stood, a little sunburn by the glare of life.
In the great right of an excessive wrong.
What Youth deemed crystal, Age finds out was dew.
