Background Image

...

It's Like Those Eerie Stories Nurses Tell, Of How Some Actor On A Stage Played Death, With Pasteboard Crown, Sham Orb And Tinselled Dart, And Called Himself The Monarch Of The World; Then, Going In The Tire-room Afterward, Because The Play Was Done, To Shift Himself, Got Touched Upon The Sleeve Familiarly, The Moment He Had Shut The Closet Door, By Death Himself. Thus God Might Touch A Pope At Unawares, Ask What His Baubles Mean, And Whose Part He Presumed To Play Just Now. Best Be Yourself, Imperial, Plain And True!

-Robert Browning

...

Please Wait....
Translating....

It's Like Those Eerie

Robert Browning

...

It's Like Those Eerie Stories Nurses Tell, Of How Some Actor On A Stage Played Death, With Pasteboard Crown, Sham Orb And Tinselled Dart, And Called Himself The Monarch Of The World; Then, Going In The Tire-room Afterward, Because The Play Was Done, To Shift Himself, Got Touched Upon The Sleeve Familiarly, The Moment He Had Shut The Closet Door, By Death Himself. Thus God Might Touch A Pope At Unawares, Ask What His Baubles Mean, And Whose Part He Presumed To Play Just Now. Best Be Yourself, Imperial, Plain And True!

Views: 7

Topic

More From Robert Browning

Our Interest's On The Dangerous Edge Of Things. The Honest Thief, The Tender Murderer, The Superstitious Atheist.

The Lie Was Dead And Damned, And Truth Stood Up Instead.

Oh The Wild Joys Of Living! The Leaping From Rock To Rock ... The Cool Silver Shock Of The Plunge In A Pool's Living Waters.

Desire Joy And Thank God For It. Renounce It, If Need Be, For Other's Sake. That's Joy Beyond Joy.

O World, As God Has Made It! All Is Beauty.

Rejoice That Man Is Hurled, From Change To Change Unceasingly, His Soul's Wings Never Furled!

Of Power Does Man Possess No Particle: Of Knowledge-just So Much As Show That Still It Ends In Ignorance On Every Side.

And Inasmuch As Feeling, The East's Gift, Is Quick And Transient,- Comes, And Lo! Is Gone, While Northern Thought Is Slow And Durable.

Is Your Love For The Lord Sufficient To Give All Your Time And Talents To His Work?

On The Earth The Broken Arcs; In The Heaven A Perfect Round.

I Have No Little Insight Into The Feelings Of Furniture, And Treat Books And Prints With A Reasonable Consideration. How Some People Use Their Pictures, For Instance, Is A Mystery To Me; Very Revolting All The Same--portraits Obliged To Face Each Other For Ever--prints Put Together In Portfolios.

I Am Grown Peaceful As Old Age Tonight.

Each Life Unfulfilled, You See; It Hangs Still, Patchy And Scrappy: We Have Not Sighed Deep, Laughed Free, Starved, Feasted, Despaired,—been Happy.

Fair Or Foul The Lot Apportioned Life On Earth, We Bear Alike.

Say Not "a Small Event!" Why "small"? Costs It More Pain That This Ye Call A "great Event" Should Come To Pass From That? Untwine Me From The Mass Of Deeds Which Make Up Life, One Deed Power Shall Fall Short In Or Exceed!

I Say, The Acknowledgment Of God In Christaccepted By Thy Reason, Solves For Theeall Questions In The Earth And Out Of It,and Has So Far Advanced Thee To Be Wise.

Make No More Giants, God!but Elevate The Race At Once!

What Youth Deemed Crystal, Age Finds Out Was Dew.

Italy, My Italy! Queen Mary's Saying Serves For Me (when Fortune's Malice Lost Her Calais): "open My Heart, And You Will See Graved Inside Of It 'italy.'"

The Curious Crime, The Fine Felicity And Flower Of Wickedness.

I Have Lived, And Seen God's Hand Thro A Life Time, And All Was For The Best.

Ah, But A Man's Reach Should Exceed His Grasp, Or What's A Heaven For?

Outside Are The Storms And Strangers: We — Oh, Close, Safe, Warm Sleep I And She, — I And She!

Love, Hope, Fear, Faith - These Make Humanity; These Are Its Sign And Note And Character.

A Lion May Die Of An Ass's Kick.

Just For A Handful Of Silver He Left Us, Just For A Riband To Stick In His Coat.

Tis Man's To Explore Up And Down, Inch By Inch, With The Taper His Reason.

My Business Is Not To Remake Myself, But To Make The Absolute Best Of What God Made.

I Walked A Mile With Pleasure; She Chattered All The Way. But Left Me None The Wiser For All She Had To Say. I Walked A Mile With Sorrow And Ne'er A Word Said She; But Oh, The Things I Learned From Her When Sorrow Walked With Me!

Oh, To Be In England Now That April's There.

April And Spring

Grow Old With Me! The Best Is Yet To Be.

O Lyric Love, Half Angel And Half Bird. And All A Wonder And A Wild Desire.

The Candid Incline To Surmise Of Late That The Christian Faith Proves False.

Death: The Grand Perhaps.

Grow Old With Me. The Best Is Yet To Be. The Last Of Life For Which The First Was Made.

Autumn Wins You Best By This Its Mute Appeal To Sympathy For Its Decay.

The Sad Rhyme Of The Men Who Proudly Clung To Their First Fault, And Withered In Their Pride.

That Great Brow And The Spirit-small Hand Propping It.

All Good Things Are Ours, Nor Soul Helps Flesh More, Now, Than Flesh Helps Soul!

It 's Wiser Being Good Than Bad; It 's Safer Being Meek Than Fierce; It 's Fitter Being Sane Than Mad. My Own Hope Is, A Sun Will Pierce The Thickest Cloud Earth Ever Stretched; That After Last Returns The First, Though A Wide Compass Round Be Fetched.

What? Was Man Made A Wheel-work To Wind Up, And Be Discharged, And Straight Wound Up Anew? No! Grown, His Growth Lasts; Taught, He Ne'er Forgets: May Learn A Thousand Things, Not Twice The Same.

It's Wiser Being Good Than Bad; It's Safer Being Meek Than Fierce: It's Fitter Being Sane Than Mad.

Pippa's Song The Year's At The Spring The Day's At The Morn Morning's At Seven, The Hill Side's Dew-pearled The Lark's On The Wing The Snail's On The Thorn God's In His Heaven- All's Right With The World

Every One Soon Or Late Comes Round By Rome.

A Pretty Woman's Worth Some Pains To See.

For The Preacher's Merit Or Demerit, It Were To Be Wished That The Flaws Were Fewer In The Earthen Vessel, Holding Treasure, But The Main Thing Is, Does It Hold Good Measure Heaven Soon Sets Right All Other Matters!

But God Has A Few Of Us To Whom He Whispers In The Ear; The Rest May Reason And Welcome; 'tis We Musicians Know.

But Facts Are Facts And Flinch Not.

I Judge People By What They Might Be, - Not Are, Nor Will Be.

When I Love Most, Love Is Disguised. In Hate; And When Hate Is Surprised, In Love, Then I Hate Most.

The Moment Eternal - Just That And No More - When Ecstasy's Utmost We Clutch At The Core While Cheeks Burn, Arms Open, Eyes Shut, And Lips Meet!

Hand Grasps At Hand, Eye Lights Eye In Good Friendship, And Great Hearts Expand And Grow One In The Sense Of This World's Life.

There Is An Inmost Center In Us All, Where Truth Abides In Fullness;....and, To Know, Rather Consists In Opening Out A Way Where The Imprisoned Splendor May Escape, Then In Effecting Entry For A Light Supposed To Be Without.

Death Was Past, Life Not Come: So He Waited.

How Well I Know What I Mean To Do When The Long Dark Autumn Evenings Come, And Where, My Soul, Is Thy Pleasant Hue? With The Music Of All Thy Voices, Dumb In Life’s November Too! I Shall Be Found By The Fire, Suppose, O’er A Great Wise Book As Beseemeth Age, While The Shutters Flap As The Cross-wind Blows, And I Turn The Page, And I Turn The Page, Not Verse Now, Only Prose!

That Moment She Was Mine, Mine, Fair, Perfectly Pure And Good: I Found A Thing To Do, And All Her Hair In One Long Yellow String I Wound Three Times Her Little Throat Around, And Strangled Her. No Pain Felt She; I Am Quite Sure She Felt No Pain. As A Shut Bud That Holds A Bee, I Warily Oped Her Lids: Again Laughed The Blue Eyes Without A Stain. And I Untightened The Next Tress About Her Neck; Her Cheek Once More Blushed Bright Beneath My Burning Kiss . . .

If You Can Sit At Set Of Sun And Count The Deeds That You Have Done And Counting Find Oneself-denying Act, One Word That Eased The Heart Of Him That Heard. One Glance Most Kind, Which Fell Like Sunshine Where He Went, Then You May Count That Day Well Spent.

Truth Is Within Ourselves.

Generations Pass While Some Tree Stands, And Old Families Last Not Three Oaks.

Go In Thy Native Innocence, Rely On What Thou Hast Of Virtue, Summon All, For God Towards Thee Hath Done His Part, Do Thine.

That's The Wise Thrush; He Sings Each Song Twice Over, Lest You Should Think He Never Could Recapture The First Fine Careless Rapture!

All Service Ranks The Same With God,- With God, Whose Puppets, Best And Worst, Are We: There Is No Last Nor First.

Youth Means Love, Vows Can't Change Nature, Priests Are Only Men.

Ever Judge Of Men By Their Professions. For Though The Bright Moment Of Promising Is But A Moment, And Cannot Be Prolonged, Yet If Sincere In Its Moment's Extravagant Goodness, Why, Trust It, And Know The Man By It, I Say,- Not By His Performance; Which Is Half The World's Work, Interfere As The World Needs Must With Its Accidents And Circumstances: The Profession Was Purely The Man's Own. I Judge People By What They Might Be,- Not Are, Nor Will Be.

From The Sprinkled Isles, Lily On Lily, That O'erlace The Sea.

My Care Is For Myself; Myself Am Whole And Sole Reality.

A People Is But The Attempt Of Many To Rise To The Completer Life Of One; And Those Who Live As Models For The Mass Are Singly Of More Value Than They All.

I Trust In Nature For The Stable Laws Of Beauty And Utility. Spring Shall Plant And Autumn Garner To The End Of Time. I Trust In God,-the Right Shall Be The Right And Other Than The Wrong, While He Endures. I Trust In My Own Soul, That Can Perceive The Outward And The Inward,-nature's Good And God's.

The Great Beacon Light God Sets In All, The Conscience Of Each Bosom.

Good Strong Thick Stupefying Incense-smoke!

Never The Time And The Place And The Loved One All Together.

Open My Heart, And You Will See Graved Inside Of It ‘italy.'

Tis Looking Downward Makes One Dizzy.

Oh Never Star Was Lost Here But It Rose Afar.

Let's Contend No More, Love, Strive Nor Weep: All Be As Before Love, - Only Sleep.

Oh, To Be In England Now That April's There, And Whoever Wakes In England Sees, Some Morning, Unaware.

Best Be Yourself, Imperial, Plain, And True.

O Woman-country! Wooed Not Wed, Loved All The More By Earth's Male-lands, Laid To Their Hearts Instead.

Truth Never Hurt The Teller.

Be Sure That God Ne'er Dooms To Waste The Strength He Deigns Impart.

Over My Head His Arm He Flung, Against The World.

How He Lies In His Rights Of A Man! Death Has Done All Death Can. And Absorbed In The New Life He Leads, He Recks Not, He Heeds Nor His Wrong Nor My Vengeance; Both Strike On His Senses Alike, And Are Lost In The Solemn And Strange Surprise Of The Change.

Where The Heart Lies, Let The Brain Lie Also.

There's A New Tribunal Now Higher Than God's -the Educated Man's!

Faultless To A Fault.

Lose Who May-i Still Can Say, Those Who Win Heaven, Blest Are They!

Any Nose May Ravage With Impunity A Rose.

Sing, Riding 's A Joy! For Me I Ride.

Since There My Past Life Lies, Why Alter It?

No Work Begun Shall Ever Pause For Death.

What's Come To Perfection Perishes. Things Learned On Earth We Shall Practice In Heaven; Works Done Least Rapidly Art Most Cherishes.

Must In Death Your Daylight Finish? My Sun Sets To Rise Again.

Mothers, Wives And Maids, These Be The Tools With Which Priests Manage Men.

I Hear You Reproach, "but Delay Was Best, For Their End Was A Crime." Oh, A Crime Will Do As Well, I Reply, To Serve For A Test As A Virtue Golden Through And Through, Sufficient To Vindicate Itself And Prove Its Worth At A Moment's View! . . . . . . Let A Man Contend To The Uttermost For His Life's Set Prize, Be It What It Will! The Counter Our Lovers Staked Was Lost As Surely As If It Were Lawful Coin; And The Sin I Impute To Each Frustrate Ghost Is-the Unlit Lamp And The Ungirt Loin, Though The End In Sight Was A Vice, I Say.

Silence 'tis Awe Decrees.

What A Name! Was It Love Or Praise? Speech Half-asleep Or Song Half-awake? I Must Learn Spanish, One Of These Days, Only For That Slow Sweet Name's Sake.

All Poetry Is Putting The Infinite Within The Finite.

All Poetry Is Difficult To Read - The Sense Of It Anyhow.

Imperfection Means Perfection Hid.

Man Partly Is And Wholly Hopes To Be.

Was There Nought Better Than To Enjoy? No Feat Which, Done, Would Make Time Break, And Let Us Pent-up Creatures Through Into Eternity, Our Due? No Forcing Earth Teach Heaven's Employ?

Might She Have Loved Me? Just As Well She Might Have Hated, Who Can Tell!

All June I Bound The Rose In Sheaves, Now, Rose By Rose, I Strip The Leaves.

Sorrow, The Heart Must Bear, Sits In The Home Of Each, Conspicuous There. Many A Circumstance, At Least, Touches The Very Breast. For Those Whom Any Sent Away,--he Knows: And In The Live Man's Stead, Armor And Ashes Reach The House Of Each.

Genius Has Somewhat Of The Infantine; But Of The Childish Not A Touch Or Taint.

The Rain Set Early In Tonight, The Sullen Wind Was Soon Awake, It Tore The Elm-tops Down For Spite, And Did Its Best To Vex The Lake: I Listened With Heart Fit To Break. When Glided In Porphyria; Straight She Shut The Cold Out And The Storm, And Kneeled And Made The Cheerless Grate Blaze Up And All The Cottage Warm.

The Sea Heaves Up, Hangs Loaded O'er The Land, Breaks There, And Buries Its Tumultuous Strength.

Oh, The Little More, And How Much It Is! And The Little Less, And What Worlds Away.

But Little Do Or Can The Best Of Us: That Little Is Achieved Through Liberty.

In This World, Who Can Do A Thing, Will Not; And Who Would Do It, Cannot, I Perceive: Yet The Will's Somewhat — Somewhat, Too, The Power — And Thus We Half-men Struggle.

Inscribe All Human Effort With One Word, Artistry's Haunting Curse, The Incomplete!

But There Are Times When Patience Proves At Fault.

The Aim, If Reached Or Not, Makes Great The Life: Try To Be Shakespeare, Leave The Rest To Fate!

At Last Awake From Life, That Insane Dream We Take For Waking Now.

The World And Life's Too Big To Pass For A Dream

Thou Art My Single Day, God Lends To Leaven What Were All Earth Else, With A Feel Of Heaven.

There Are Those Who Believe Something, And Therefore Will Tolerate Nothing; And On The Other Hand, Those Who Tolerate Everything, Because They Believe Nothing.

Aspire, Break Bounds. Endeavor To Be Good, And Better Still, Best.

Graved Inside Of It, "italy".

One Wise Man's Verdict Outweighs All The Fools'.

For Life, With All Its Yields Of Joy And Woe Is Just A Chance O' The Prize Of Learning Love.

And Let Them Pass, As They Will Too Soon, With The Bean-flowers' Boon, And The Blackbird's Tune, And May, And June!

God Be Thanked, The Meanest Of His Creatures Boasts Two Soul-sides, One To Face The World With, One To Show A Woman When He Loves Her.

Escape Me? Never, Beloved! While I Am I, And You Are You.

God Is Seen God In The Star, In The Stone, In The Flesh, In The Soul And The Clod.

Day! Faster And More Fast. O'er Night's Brim, Day Boils At Last.

Who Knows But The World May End Tonight

Shun Death, Is My Advice.

Man Seeks His Own Good At The Whole World's Cost.

As Is Your Sort Of Mind, So Is Your Sort Of Search: You Will Find What You Desire.

Love Is The Energy Of Life.

A Man In Armour Is His Armour's Slave.

The Only Fault's With Time; All Men Become Good Creatures: But So Slow!

Twere Too Absurd To Slight For The Hereafter The Todays Delight!

Night Conceals A World But Reveals A Universe.

Truth Is Truth Howe'er It Strike.

What's The Earth With All Its Art, Verse, Music, Worth — Compared With Love, Found, Gained, And Kept?

Wedding Anniversary

And Gain Is Gain, However Small.

Still More Labyrinthine Buds The Rose.

There Is No Truer Truth Obtainable By Man Than Comes Of Music

He Guides Me And The Bird. In His Good Time!

In God's Good Time, Which Does Not Always Fall On Saturday When The World Looks For Wages.

I Want To Know A Butcher Paints, A Baker Rhymes For His Pursuit, Candlestick-maker Much Acquaints His Soul With Song, Or, Haply Mute, Blows Out His Brains Upon The Flute.

To Do Good Things In The World, First You Must Know Who You Are And What Gives Meaning To Your Life.

The Peerless Cup Afloat Of The Lake-lily Is An Urn Some Nymph Swims Bearing High Above Her Head.

A Whole I Planned, Youth Shows But Half; Trust God: See All, Nor Be Afraid!

Best Is Yet To Come

A Face To Lose Youth For, To Occupy Age With The Dream Of, Meet Death With.

To Me At Least Was Never Evening Yet, But Seemed Far Beautifuller Than Its Day.

Success In Marriage Is More Than Finding The Right Person: It Is Being The Right Person.

A Man In Armor Is His Armor's Slave.

I Know What I Want And What I Might Gain, And Yet, How Profitless To Know.

Lost, Lost! One Moment Knelled The Woe Of Years.

One Who Never Turned His Back But Marched Breast Forward, Never Doubted Clouds Would Break, Never Dreamed, Though Right Were Worsted, Wrong Would Triumph, Held We Fall To Rise, Are Baffled To Fight Better, Sleep To Wake.

I Trust In Nature For The Stable Laws Of Beauty And Utility. Spring Shall Plant And Autumn Garner To The End Of Time.

In Heaven I Yearn For Knowledge, Account All Else Inanity; On Earth I Confess An Itch For The Praise Of Fools - That's Vanity

If You Get Simple Beauty And Naught Else, You Get About The Best Thing God Invents.

Dear, Dead Women, With Such Hair, Too--what's Become Of All The Gold Used To Hang And Brush Their Bosoms?

Take Away Love And Our Earth Is A Tomb.

How Strange Now, Looks The Life He Makes Us Lead; So Free We Seem, So Fettered Fast We Are!

Out Of Your Whole Life Give But A Moment! All Of Your Life That Has Gone Before, All To Come After It, -so You Ignore, So You Make Perfect The Present, Condense, In A Rapture Of Rage, For Perfection's Endowment, Thought And Feeling And Soul And Sense.

Most Progress Is Most Failure.

All Will Be Gay When Noontide Wakes Anew The Buttercups, The Little Children's Dower.

Stung By The Splendour Of A Sudden Thought.

Boot, Saddle, To Horse, And Away!

Unless You Can Love, As The Angels May, With The Breadth Of Heaven Betwixt You; Unless You Can Dream That His Faith Is Fast, Through Behoving And Unbeloving; Unless You Can Die When The Dream Is Past- Oh, Never Call It Loving!

So Munch On, Crunch On, Take Your Nuncheon, Breakfast, Supper, Dinner, Luncheon!

For Thence A Paradox Which Comforts While It Mocks, - Shall Life Succeed In That It Seems To Fail: What I Aspired To Be, And Was Not, Comforts Me: A Brute I Might Have Been, But Would Not Sink I' The Scale.

Men Are Not Angels, Neither Are They Brutes.

I Do What Many Dream Of, All Their Lives

Have You Found Your Life Distasteful? My Life Did, And Does, Smack Sweet. Was Your Youth Of Pleasure Wasteful? Mine I Saved And Hold Complete. Do Your Joys With Age Diminish? When Mine Fail Me, I'll Complain. Must In Death Your Daylight Finish? My Sun Sets To Rise Again.

God Is The Perfect Poet, Who In His Person Acts His Own Creations.

Let Friend Trust Friends, And Love Demand Love's Like.

God Smiles As He Has Always Smiled; Ere Suns And Moons Could Wax And Wane, Ere Stars Were Thundergirt, Or Piled The Heavens, God Thought On Me His Child; Ordained A Life For Me, Arrayed Its Circumstances, Every One To The Minutest; Ay, God Said This Head This Hand Should Rest Upon Thus, Ere He Fashioned Star Or Sun.

Go Practice If You Please With Men And Women: Leave A Child Alone For Christ's Particular Love's Sake!

It Is The Glory And Good Of Art, That Art Remains The One Way Possible Of Speaking Truth, To Mouths Like Mine At Least.

It Was Roses, Roses, All The Way, With Myrtle Mixed In My Path Like Mad.

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 Shall Arrive: He Guides Me And The Bird. In His Good Time.

What's A Man's Age? He Must Hurry More, That's All; Cram In A Day, What His Youth Took A Year To Hold.

Ambition Is Not What Man Does... But What Man Would Do.

There Are Three Ways Of Learning Golf: By Study, Which Is The Most Wearisome; By Imitation, Which Is The Most Fallacious; And By Experience, Which Is The Most Bitter.

No Thought Which Ever Stirred A Human Breast Should Be Untold.

When The Liquor's Out, Why Clink The Cannikin?

We Shall March Prospering,-not Thro' His Presence; Songs May Inspirit Us,-not From His Lyre; Deeds Will Be Done,-while He Boasts His Quiescence, Still Bidding Crouch Whom The Rest Bade Aspire.

Pleasure Must Succeed To Pleasure, Else Past Pleasure Turns To Pain

Needs There Groan A World In Anguish Just To Teach Us Sympathy?

God's Justice, Tardy Though It Prove Perchance, Rests Never On The Track Until It Reach Delinquency.

I Write From A Thorough Conviction That It Is The Duty Of Me, And With The Belief That, After Every Drawback And Shortcoming, I Do My Best, All Things Considered--that Is For Me, And, So Being, The Not Being Listened To By One Human Creature Would, I Hope, In Nowise Affect Me.

Though Rome's Gross Yoke Drops Off, No More To Be Endured, Her Teaching Is Not So Obscured By Errors And Perversities, That No Truth Shines Athwart The Lies.

All We Have Gained Then By Our Unbelief Is A Life Of Doubt Diversified By Faith, For One Of Faith Diversified By Doubt: We Called The Chess-board White-we Call It Black.

All's Love, Yet All's Law.

Rats They Fought The Dogs And Killed The Cats, And Bit The Babies In The Cradles, And Ate The Cheeses Out Of The Vats, And Licked The Soup From The Cook's Own Ladles. Split Open The Kegs Of Salted Sprats, Made Nests Inside Men's Sunday Hats, And Even Spoiled The Women's Chats By Drowning Their Speaking With Shrieking And Squeaking In Fifty Different Sharps And Flats.

'tis Well Averred, A Scientific Faith's Absurd.

Positive Atheism

What A Thing Friendship Is - World Without End.

Time'swheelsrunsbackor Stops: Potterand Clayendure.

How Good Is Life, The Mere Living!

The Body Sprang At Once To The Height, And Stayed; But The Soul,-no!

I Dare Not So Honor My Mere Wishes And Prayers As To Put Them For A Moment Beside Your Noble Acts; But This Know, I Would Rather Submit To The Worst Of Deaths, So Far As Pain Goes, Than Have A Single Dog Or Cat Tortured On The Pretence Of Sparing Me A Twinge Or Two.

That We Devote Ourselves To God, Is Seen In Living Just As Though No God There Were.

One And All We Lend An Ear-nay, Science Takes Thereto- Encourages The Meanest Who Has Racked Nature Until He Gains From Her Some Fact, To State What Truth Is From His Point Of View, Mere Pin-point Though It Be: Since Many Such Conduce To Make A Whole, She Bids Our Friend Come Forward Unabashed And Haply Lend His Little Life-experience To Our Much Of Modern Knowledge.

Grow Old Along With Me! The Best Is Yet To Be, The Last Of Life, For Which The First Was Made. Our Times Are In His Hand Who Saith, 'a Whole I Planned, Youth Shows But Half; Trust God: See All, Nor Be Afraid!

Trending Author

Sydney J. Harris

Anatoli Boukreev

Category