Top 15 Elizabeth Barrett Browning Quotes

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach

You're something between a dream and a miracle.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

No man can be called friendless who has God and the companionship of good books.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

Earth's crammed with heaven...
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes.

I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you.

I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me. I love you for the part of me that you bring out.

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God,
But only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round and pluck blackberries.

You were made perfectly to be loved and surely I have loved you in the idea of you my whole life long.

Love me sweet
With all thou art
Feeling, thinking, seeing;
Love me in the Lightest part,
Love me in full Being.

Books, books, books!
I had found the secret of a garret room
Piled high with cases in my father’s name;
Piled high, packed large, — where, creeping in and out
Among the giant fossils of my past,
Like some small nimble mouse between the ribs
Of a mastodon, I nibbled here and there
At this or that box, pulling through the gap,
In heats of terror, haste, victorious joy,
The first book first. And how I felt it beat
Under my pillow, in the morning’s dark,
An hour before the sun would let me read!
My books!

My sun sets to rise again.

Why, what is to live? Not to eat and drink and breathe, — but to feel the life in you down all the fibres of being, passionately and joyfully.

Who so loves believes the impossible.