I see my way as birds their trackless way. I shall arrive,- what time, what circuit first, I ask not; but unless God send his hail Or blinding fire-balls, sleet or stifling snow, In some time, his good time, I… — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
I know a mount, the gracious Sun perceives First when he visits, last, too, when he leaves The world; and, vainly favored, it repays The day-long glory of his steadfast gaze By no change of its large calm front of… — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
I would have rummaged, ransacked at the word; Those old odd corners of an empty heart; For remnants of dim love the long disused,… — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
“One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, never doubted clouds would break, never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph.” — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
All service ranks the same with God,- With God, whose puppets, best and worst, Are we: there is no last nor first. — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
“Have you found your life distasteful? My life did and does smack sweet. Was your youth of pleasure wasteful? Mine I save and hold… — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
“I was ever a fighter, so---one fight more, The best and the last! I would hate that death bandaged my eyes and forbore, and… — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
But how carve way i' the life that lies before, If bent on groaning ever for the past? — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
If you get simple beauty and naught else, you get about the best thing God invents. — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
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! — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
Oh, to be in England Now that April's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware. — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
The ultimate, angels' law, Indulging every instinct of the soul There where law, life, joy, impulse are one thing! — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made. Our times are… — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, lest you should think he never could recapture the first fine careless rapture! — Robert Browning Copy Share Image
