Elizabeth Barrett Browning Quotes & Sayings

The great chasm between the thing I say, & the thing I would say, wd be quite dispiriting to me, in spite even of such kindnesses as yours, if the desire did not master the despondency. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Men of science, osteologists And surgeons, beat some poets, in respect For nature,-count nought common or unclean, Spend raptures upon perfect specimens Of indurated veins, distorted joints, Or beautiful new cases of curved spine; While we, we are shocked at nature's falling off, We dare to shrink back from her warts and blains. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

It is difficult to get rid of people when you once have given them too much pleasure ... — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

My sun sets to raise again. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed
And worthy of acceptation. Fire is bright,
Let temple burn, or flax; an equal light
Leaps in the flame from cedar-plank or weed:
And love is fire. And when I say at need
I love thee ... mark! ... I love thee
in thy sight
I stand transfigured, glorified aright,
With conscience of the new rays that proceed
Out of my face toward thine. There's nothing low
In love, when love the lowest: meanest creatures
Who love God, God accepts while loving so.
And what I feel, across the inferior features
Of what I am, doth flash itself, and show
How that great work of Love enhances Nature's. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I shall but love thee bitter after death — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Our Euripides the human,
With his droppings of warm tears,
and his touchings of things common
Till they rose to meet the spheres. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

That headlong ivy! not a leaf will grow But thinking of a wreath, ... I like such ivy; bold to leap a height 'Twas strong to climb! as good to grow on graves As twist about a thyrsus; pretty too (And that's not ill) when twisted round a comb. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I work with patience, which is almost power. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

But I love you, sir:
And when a woman says she loves a man,
The man must hear her, though he love her not. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The plague of gold strikes far and near. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers? — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Every age, Through being beheld too close, is ill-discerned By those who have not lived past it. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Yet half the beast is the great god Pan, To laugh, as he sits by the river, Making a poet out of a man. The true gods sigh for the cost and the pain
For the reed that grows never more again As a reed with the reeds of the river. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Love doesn't make the world go round, Love is what makes the ride worthwhile! — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Whatever's lost, it first was won. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

You're something between a dream and a miracle. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The critics say that epics have died out with Agamemnon and the goat-nursed gods; I'll not believe it. I could never deem as Payne Knight did, that Homer's heroes measured twelve feet high. They were but men: -his Helen's hair turned grey like any plain Miss Smith's who wears a front; And Hector's infant whimpered at a plume as yours last Friday at a turkey-cock. All heroes are essential men, and all men possible heroes: every age, heroic in proportions, double faced, looks backward and before, expects a morn and claims an epos. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

My letters! all dead paper, mute and white!
And yet they seem alive and quivering
Against my tremulous hands which loose the string
And let them drop down on my knee to-night.
This said,
he wished to have me in his sight
Once, as a friend: this fixed a day in spring
To come and touch my hand ... a simple thing,
Yet I wept for it!
this, ... the paper's light ...
Said, Dear I love thee; and I sank and quailed
As if God's future thundered on my past.
This said, I am thine
and so its ink has paled
With lying at my heart that beat too fast.
And this ... O Love, thy words have ill availed
If, what this said, I dared repeat at last! — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

He lives most life whoever breathes most air. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

In this abundant earth no doubt Is little room for things worn out: Disdain them, break them, throw them by! And if before the days grew rough We once were lov'd, us'd
well enough, I think, we've far'd, my heart and I. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I would not be a rose upon the wall
A queen might stop at, near the palace-door,
To say to a courtier, "Pluck that rose for me,
It's prettier than the rest." O Romney Leigh!
I'd rather far be trodden by his foot,
Than lie in a great queen's bosom. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

It is not merely the likeness which is precious ... but the association and the sense of nearness involved in the thing ... the fact of the very shadow of the person lying there fixed forever! It is the very sanctification of portraits I think - and it is not at all monstrous in me to say that I would rather have such a memorial of one I dearly loved, than the noblest Artist's work ever produced. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Thou comest! all is said without a word. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

What is genius but the power of expressing a new individuality? — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I, who had had my heart full for hours, took advantage of an early moment of solitude, to cry in it very bitterly. Suddenly a little hairy head thrust itself from behind my pillow into my face, rubbing its ears and nose against me in a responsive agitation, and drying the tears as they came. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I f thou must love me, let it be for nought Except for love's sake only. Do not say, I love her for her smile ... her look ... her way Of speaking gently ... for a trick of thought That falls in well with mine, and, certes, brought A sense of pleasant ease on such a day- For these things in themselves, Beloved, may Be changed, or change for thee-and love so wrought, May be unwrought so. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Yes, I answered you last night; No, this morning, sir, I say: Colors seen by candle-light Will not look the same by day. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Knowledge by suffering entereth,
And life is perfected by death. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

And lilies are still lilies, pulled By smutty hands, though spotted from their white. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Definition of Love: A score of zero in tennis. I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears of all my life. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Two human loves make one divine. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

We overstate the ills of life, and take Imagination ... down our earth to rake ... — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Think, in mounting higher, the angels would press on us, and aspire to drop some golden orb of perfect song into our deep, dear silence. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

True knowledge comes only through suffering. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Sleep on, Baby, on the floor, Tired of all the playing, Sleep with smile the sweeter for That you dropped away in! On your curls' full roundness stand Golden lights serenely
One cheek, pushed out by the hand, Folds the dimple inly. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

A grave, on which to rest from singing? — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Never say No when the world says Aye — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

There's nothing great Nor small, has said a poet of our day, Whose voice will ring beyond the curfew of eve And not be thrown out by the matin's bell. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Unless you can muse in a crowd all day On the absent face that fixed you; Unless you can love, as the angels may, With the breadth of heaven betwixt you; Unless you can dream that his faith is fast, Through behoving and unbehoving; Unless you can die when the dream is past - Oh, never call it loving! — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Experience, like a pale musician, holds a dulcimer of patience in his hand. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

There are nettles everywhere, but smooth, green grasses are more common still; the blue of heaven is larger than the cloud. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Very whitely still The lilies of our lives may reassure Their blossoms from their roots, accessible Alone to heavenly dews that drop not fewer; Growing straight out of man's reach, on the hill. God only, who made us rich, can make us poor. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Enough! we're tired, my heart and I. We sit beside the headstone thus, And wish that name were carved for us. The moss reprints more tenderly The hard types of the mason's knife, As Heaven's sweet life renews earth's life With which we're tired, my heart and I ... In this abundant earth no doubt Is little room for things worn out: Disdain them, break them, throw them by! And if before the days grew rough We once were loved, used, - well enough, I think, we've fared, my heart and I. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Earth's crammed with Heaven. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

But since he had The genius to be loved, why let him have The justice to be honoured in his grave. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Behold me! I am worthy
Of thy loving, for I love thee! — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

When we first met and loved, I did not build Upon the event with marble ... — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

And is it not the chief good of money, the being free from the need of thinking of it? — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Much of the possibility of being cheerful comes from the faculty of throwing oneself beyond oneself ... — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

...But the child's sob in silence curses deeper / Than the strong man in his wrath. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Measure not the work until the day's out and the labor done. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The little cares that fretted me, I lost them yesterday Among the fields above the sea, Among the winds at play. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I heard an angel speak last night/And he said, "Write!" — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Foolishness and criticism are so apt, do so naturally go together! — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

All actual heroes are essential men,
And all men possible heroes. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

And Marlowe, Webster, Fletcher, Ben, Whose fire-hearts sowed our furrows when The world was worthy of such men. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Too much beauty, I reckon, is nothing but too much sun. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The Holy Night We sate among the stalls at Bethlehem; The dumb kine from their fodder turning them, Softened their horned faces To almost human gazes Toward the newly Born: The simple shepherds from the star-lit brooks Brought visionary looks, As yet in their astonied hearing rung The strange sweet angel-tongue: The magi of the East, in sandals worn, Knelt reverent, sweeping round, With long pale beards, their gifts upon the ground, The incense, myrrh, and gold These baby hands were impotent to hold: So let all earthlies and celestials wait Upon thy royal state. Sleep, sleep, my kingly One! — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Life loves to be taken by the lapel and told: I'm with you kid. Let's go. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Suddenly, as rare things will, it vanished. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

He's just, your cousin, ay, abhorrently, He'd wash his hands in blood, to keep them clean. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

When God helps all the workers for His world,
The singers shall have help of Him, not last. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

A great man leaves clean work behind him, and requires no sweeper up of the chips. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I am one who could have forgotten the plague, listening to Boccaccio's stories; and I am not ashamed of it. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Silence is the best response to a fool ... — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

My patience has dreadful chilblains from standing so long on a monument. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

A child's kiss Set on thy sighing lips shall make thee glad; A poor man served by thee shall make thee rich; A sick man helped by thee shall make thee strong; Thou shalt be served thyself by every sense Of service which thou renderest. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

For tis not in mere death that men die most. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

OF writing many books there is no end;
And I who have written much in prose and verse
For others' uses, will write now for mine,-
Will write my story for my better self,
As when you paint your portrait for a friend,
Who keeps it in a drawer and looks at it
Long after he has ceased to love you, just
To hold together what he was and is. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

What is art but the life upon the larger scale, the higher. When, graduating up in a spiral line of still expanding and ascending gyres, it pushes toward the intense significance of all things, hungry for the infinite? — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I thought once how Theocritus had sung
Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,
Who each one in a gracious hand appears
To bear a gift for mortals, old or young;
And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,
I saw, in gradual vision through my tears,
The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years,
Those of my own life, who by turns had flung
A shadow across me. Straightaway I was 'ware,
So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move
Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair;
And a voice said in mastery, while I strove,
Guess now who holds thee?
Death, I said, But, there,
The silver answer rang,
Not Death, but Love. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

God's gifts put men's best dreams to shame. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

God's gifts put man's best dreams to shame. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

XI
I sang his name instead of song;
Over and over I sang his name:
Backward and forward I sang it along,
With my sweetest notes, it was still the same!
I sang it low, that the slave-girls near
Might never guess, from what they could hear,
That all the song was a name. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Through heaven and earth
God's will moves freely, and I follow it,
As color follows light. He overflows
The firmamental walls with deity,
Therefore with love; His lightnings go abroad,
His pity may do so, His angels must,
Whene'er He gives them charges. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The chances are that, being a woman, young,
And pure, with such a pair of large, calm eyes,
You write as well ... and ill ... upon the whole,
As other women. If as well, what then?
If even a little better,..still, what then?
We want the Best in art now, or no art. (L144-149) — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

An ignorance of means may minister to greatness, but an ignorance of aims make it impossible to be great at all. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

If thou must love me, let it be for naught except for love's sake only. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Gaze up at the stars knowing that I see the same sky and wish the same sweet dreams. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Who can fear
Too many stars, though each in heaven shall roll-
Too many flowers, though each shall crown the year?
Say thou dost love me, love me, love me-toll
The silver iterance!-only minding, Dear,
To love me also in silence, with thy soul. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

But the child's sob curses deeper in the silence than the strong man in his wrath! — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I would confide to you perhaps my secret profession of faith - which is ... which is ... that let us say and do what we please and can ... there is a natural inferiority of mind in women - of the intellect ... not by any means, of the moral nature - and that the history of Art and of genius testifies to this fact openly. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

A cheerful genius suits the times, / And all true poets laugh unquenchably / Like Shakespeare and the gods. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Death forerunneth Love to win "Sweetest eyes were ever seen." — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

As the moths around a taper,
As the bees around a rose,
As the gnats around a vapour,
So the spirits group and close
Round about a holy childhood, as if drinking its repose. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Most illogical Irrational nature of our womanhood, That blushes one way, feels another way, And prays, perhaps another! — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Nor myrtle
which means chiefly love: and love
Is something awful which one dare not touch
So early o' mornings. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Many a fervid man writes books as cold and flat as graveyard stones. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I cannot speak in happy tones. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Women know the way to rear up children (to be just). They know a simple, merry, tender knack of tying sashes, fitting baby-shoes, and stringing pretty words that make no sense. And kissing full sense into empty words. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The soul's Rialto hath its merchandise, I barter for curl upon that mart. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

But so fair, She takes the breath of men away Who gaze upon her unaware. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Nosegays! leave them for the waking,
Throw them earthward where they grew
Dim are such, beside the breaking
Amaranths he looks unto.
Folded eyes see brighter colors than the open ever do. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Men get opinions as boys learn to spell by reiteration chiefly. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The English have a scornful insular way Of calling the French light. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

And each man stands with his face in the light. Of his own drawn sword, ready to do what a hero can. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

You may write twenty lines one day
or even three like Euripides in three days
and a hundred lines in one more day
and yet on the hundred, may have been expended as much good work, as on the twenty and the three. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning