Quotes By Robert Browning

My sun sets to rise again.

Ignorance is not innocence but sin.

A minute's success pays the failure of years.

Like dogs in a wheel, birds in a cage, or squirrels in a chain, ambitious men still climb and climb, with great labor, and incessant anxiety, but never reach the top.

Fail I alone, in words and deeds? Why, all men strive and who succeeds?

Love is energy of life.

Grow old with me! The best is yet to be.

Perhaps one has to be very old before one learns to be amused rather than shocked.

'Tis not what man Does which exalts him, but what man Would do.

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

Who hears music feels his solitude peopled at once.

Ambition is not what man does... but what man would do.

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

Autumn wins you best by this its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay.

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

One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, never doubted clouds would break, Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, sleep to wake.

Better have failed in the high aim, as I, Than vulgarly in the low aim succeed As, God be thanked! I do not.

Every one soon or late comes round by Rome.

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

Motherhood: All love begins and ends there.

A face to lose youth for, to occupy age With the dream of, meet death with.

What's a man's age? He must hurry more, that's all; Cram in a day, what his youth took a year to hold.

The moment eternal - just that and no more - When ecstasy's utmost we clutch at the core While cheeks burn, arms open, eyes shut, and lips meet!

Never the time and the place and the loved one all together!

How good is man's life, the mere living! How fit to employ all the heart and the soul and the senses forever in joy!

Measure your mind's height by the shade it casts.

God is the perfect poet.

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

If you get simple beauty and naught else, you get about the best thing God invents.

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