Robert Browning Quotes

for the natural man is roused
At fools who first do wrong then pour the blame
Of their wrong-doing, Satan-like, on Job.

I saw no use in the past: only a scene
Of degradation, ugliness, and tears;
The record of disgraces best forgotten;

Man, like a glass ball with a spark a-top,
Out of the magic fire that lurks inside,
Shows one tint at a time to take the eye:
Which, let a finger touch the silver sleep,
Shifted a hair's-breadth shoots you dark for bright,
Suffuses bright with dark, and baffles so
Your sentence absolute for shine or shade.

And what proportion love should hold with power
In his right constitution: love preceding
Power — with much power always much more love;

That is the doctrine, simple, ancient, true;
Such is life’s trial, as old earth smiles and knows.
If you loved only what were worth your love,
Love were clear gain, and wholly well for you:
Make the low nature better by your throes!
Give earth yourself, go up for gain above!

Grime is grace
To whoso gropes amid the dung for gold.

For, looking up, aware I somehow grew,
’Spite of the dusk, the plain had given place
All round to mountains - with such name to grace
Mere ugly heights and heaps now stolen in view.
How thus they had surprised me - solve it, you!
How to get from them was no clearer case.

Forgive me. I am shy by nature: — & by position & experience, . . . by having had my nerves shaken to excess, & by leading a life of such seclusion, . . . by these things together & by others besides, I have appeared shy & ungrateful to you. Only not mistrustful.You could not mean to judge me so. Mistrustful people do not write as I write, . . . surely!

But to have seen thee, and to die so soon!

This it is to have to do
With honest hearts: they easily may err,
But in the main they wish well to the truth.

There is but one way to brow-beat this world,
Dumb-founder doubt, and repay scorn in kind, — To go on trusting, namely, till faith move Mountains.

Do Thou wipe out the being of me, and smear
This soul from off Thy white of things, I blot!
I am one huge and sheer mistake,- — -whose fault?
Not mine at least, who did not make myself!

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

Love is energy of life.

There is no truer truth obtainable By Man than comes of music.