Quotes from Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Who so loves believes the impossible.

Quick-loving hearts ... may quickly loathe.

Light tomorrow with today.

God's gifts put men's best dreams to shame.

Witch, scholar, poet, dreamer, and the rest...

With stammering lips and insufficient sound I strive and struggle to deliver right the music of my nature.

All actual heroes are essential men, And all men possible heroes.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.

Girls blush, sometimes, because they are alive, Half wishing they were dead to save the shame. The sudden blush devours them, neck and brow; They have drawn too near the fire of life, like gnats, And flare up bodily, wings and all. What then? Who's sorry for a gnat... or a girl?

And yet, because I love thee, I obtain From that same love this vindicating grace, To live on still in love, and yet in vain

What we call Life is a condition of the soul. And the soul must improve in happiness and wisdom, except by its own fault. These tears in our eyes, these faintings of the flesh, will not hinder such improvement.

And if God choose I shall but love thee better after death.

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.

What I do, and what I dream include thee, as the wine must taste of its own grapes.

What is genius but the power of expressing a new individuality?

Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God: But only he who sees takes off his shoes.

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

The devil's most devilish when respectable.

Since when was genius found respectable?

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

First time he kissed me, he but only kissed The fingers of this hand wherewith I write; And, ever since, it grew more clean and white.

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.

I cannot speak In happy tones; the tear drops on my cheek Show I am sad; But I can speak Of grace to suffer with submission meek, Until made glad.

He who breathes deepest lives most.