OF writing many books there is no end; And I who have written much in prose and verse For others' uses, will… — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share Image
Like to write? Of course, of course I do. I seem to live while I write - it is life, for me. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share Image
I remember, when I was a child and wrote poems in little clasped books, I used to kiss the books and put… — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share Image
I heard an angel speak last night/And he said, "Write!" — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share Image
Many a fervid man writes books as cold and flat as graveyard stones. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share Image
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… — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share Image
And lilies are still lilies, pulled By smutty hands, though spotted from their white. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share Image
The Greeks said grandly in their tragic phrase, 'Let no one be called happy till his death;' to which I would add, 'Let no… — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share Image
“The face of all the world is changed, I think, Since first I heard the footsteps of they soul Move still, oh, still, beside… — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share Image
Wall must get the weather stain Before they grow the ivy. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share Image
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… — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share Image
With stammering lips and insufficient sound I strive and struggle to deliver right the music of my nature. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share Image
The charm, one might say the genius, of memory is that it is choosy, chancy and temperamental. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share Image
The flower-girl's prayer to buy roses and pinks, held out in the smoke, like stars by day. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share Image
They say that God lives very high! But if you look above the pines You cannot see our God. And why? And if you… — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share Image
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… — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share Image
