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Love Is Energy Of Life.

-Robert Browning

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Love Is Energy Of

Robert Browning

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Love Is Energy Of Life.

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Self Improvement

More From Robert Browning

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.

Brightest Truth, Purest Trust In The Universe, All Were For Me, In The Kiss Of One Girl.

Our Aspirations Are Our Responsibilities.

Believeth With The Life, The Pain Shall Stop.

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

If Thou Tastest A Crust Of Bread, Thou Tastest All The Stars And All The Heavens.

Smiling The Boy Fell Dead.

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

Earth Changes, But Thy Soul And God Stand Sure.

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

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

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.

Are There Not, Dear Michael, Two Points In The Adventure Of The Diver,- One, When A Beggar He Prepares To Plunge; One, When A Prince He Rises With His Pearl? Festus, I Plunge.

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.

Sappho Survives, Because We Sing Her Songs; And Eschylus, Because We Read His Plays!

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

Truth Is Within Ourselves; It Takes No Rise From Outward Things, Whate'er You May Believe. There Is An Inmost Centre In Us All, Where Truth Abides In Fulness; And Around, Wall Upon Wall, The Gross Flesh Hems It In, This Perfect, Clear Perception-which Is Truth. A Baffling And Perverting Carnal Mesh Binds It, And Makes All Error: And To Know Rather Consists In Opening Out A Way Whence The Imprisoned Splendour May Escape, Than In Effecting Entry For A Light Supposed To Be Without.

Progress Is The Law Of Life: Man Is Not Man As Yet.

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

Strike When Thou Wilt, The Hour Of Rest, But Let My Last Days Be My Best.

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

Other Heights In Other Lives, God Willing.

Shun Death, Is My Advice.

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.

"with This Same Key Shakespeare Unlocked His Heart" Once More! Did Shakespeare? If So, The Less Shakespeare He!

Things Are Where Things Are, And, As Fate Has Willed, So Shall They Be Fulfilled.

Hatred And Cark And Care, What Place Have They / In Yon Blue Liberality Of Heaven?.

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.

Into The Street The Piper Stepped, Smiling First A Little Smile As If He Knew What Magic Slept In His Quiet Pipe The While. And The Piper Advanced And The Children Followed.

Still More Labyrinthine Buds The Rose.

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

The Past Is Gained, Secure, And On Record.

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

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

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

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

Wander At Will, Day After Day,-- Wander Away, Wandering Still-- Soul That Canst Soar! Body May Slumber: Body Shall Cumber Soul-flight No More.

Death: The Grand Perhaps.

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.

This Could But Have Happened Once,- And We Missed It, Lost It Forever.

A Lion May Die Of An Ass's Kick.

Oh Never Star Was Lost Here But It Rose Afar.

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 . . .

I Hold That A Man Should Strive To The Uttermost For His Life's Set Prize.

Where The Apple Reddens Never Pry - Lest We Lose Our Edens, Eve And I.

Every One Soon Or Late Comes Round By Rome.

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

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

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

We Find Great Things Are Made Of Little Things, And Little Things Go Lessening Till At Last Comes God Behind Them.

T'was A Thief Said The Last Kind Word To Christ. Christ Took The Kindness And Forgave The Theft.

Be Sure They Sleep Not Whom God Needs.

Motherhood: All Love Begins And Ends There.

But What If I Fail Of My Purpose Here? It Is But To Keep The Nerves At Strain, To Dry One's Eyes And Laugh At A Fall, And Baffled, Get Up And Begin Again.

Take Away Love And Our Earth Is A Tomb.

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

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

Most Progress Is Most Failure.

Make Us Happy And You Make Us Good.

But How Carve Way I' The Life That Lies Before, If Bent On Groaning Ever For The Past?

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

When A Man's Busy, Why Leisure Strikes Him As Wonderful Pleasure: 'faith, And At Leisure Once Is He? Straightway He Wants To Be Busy.

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

Such Ever Was Love's Way: To Rise, It Stoops.

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

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

'tis Only When They Spring To Heaven That Angels Reveal Themselves To You.

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.

Once More On My Adventure Brave And New.

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.

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

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.

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 Difficult To Read - The Sense Of It Anyhow.

Art Remains The One Way Possible Of Speaking Truth.

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.

Never Brag, Never Bluster, Never Blush.

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

Best Is Yet To Come

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

A Man In Armour Is His Armour's Slave.

Men Are Not Angels, Neither Are They Brutes.

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

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

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

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.

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

What Joy Is Better Than The News Of Friends?

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

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

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!

So, Fall Asleep Love, Loved By Me... For I Know Love, I Am Loved By Thee.

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.

A Man In Armor Is His Armor's Slave.

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!

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

No! Let Me Taste The Whole Of It, Fare Like My Peers, The Heroes Of Old, Bear The Brunt, In A Minute Pay Glad Life's Arrears Of Pain, Darkness And Cold.

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

Truth Is Truth Howe'er It Strike.

Again The Cousin's Whistle! Go, My Love.

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

April And Spring

Since There My Past Life Lies, Why Alter It?

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?

The Best Way To Excape His Ire Is, Not To Seem Too Happy.

Of What I Call God, And Fools Call Nature.

All Poetry Is Putting The Infinite Within The Finite.

Lofty Designs Must Close In Like Effects.

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

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!

God Is In His Heaven, All's Right With The World.

Therefore I Summon Age / To Grant Youth's Heritage.

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

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

Silence 'tis Awe Decrees.

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

All's Love, Yet All's Law.

A Pretty Woman's Worth Some Pains To See, Nor Is She Spoiled, I Take It, If A Crown Completes The Forehead Pale And Tresses Pure.

In The Morning Of The World, When Earth Was Nigher Heaven Than Now.

Stung By The Splendour Of A Sudden Thought.

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

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

Wedding Anniversary

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

Earth Being So Good, Would Heaven Seem Best?

Good To Forgive, Best To Forget.

The Common Problem, Yours, Mine, Everyone's Is ? Not To Fancy What Were Fair In Life Provided It Could Be ? But, Finding First What May Be, Then Find How To Make It Fair Up To Our Means.

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

One May Do Whatever One Likes. In Art, The Only Thing Is, To Make Sure That One Does Like It.

Finds Progress, Man's Distinctive Mark Alone, Not God's, And Not The Beast's; God Is, They Are, Man Partly Is, And Wholly Hopes To Be.

O Never Star Was Lost; Here We All Aspire To Heaven And There Is Heaven Above Us. If I Stoop Into A Dark Tremendous Sea Of Cloud, It Is But For A Time; I Press God's Lamp Close To My Breast; Its Splendor Soon Or Late Will Pierce The Gloom. I Shall Emerge Some Day.

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

A Pretty Woman's Worth Some Pains To See.

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

When Is Man Strong Until He Feels Alone?

Best Be Yourself, Imperial, Plain, And True.

The Trouble That Most Of Us Find With The Modern Matched Sets Of Clubs Is That They Don't Really Seem To Know Any More About The Game Than The Old Ones Did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

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.

All The Breath And The Bloom Of The Year In The Bag Of One Bee; All The Wonder And Wealth Of The Mine In The Heart Of One Gem; In The Core Of One Pearl All The Shade And The Shine Of The Sea; Breath And Bloom, Shade And Shine,- Wonder, Wealth, And-how Far Above Them- Truth, That's Brighter Than Gem, Truth, That's Purer Than Pearl,- Brightest Truth, Purest Trust In The Universe- All Were For Me In The Kiss Of One Girl.

I Think, Am Sure, A Brother's Love Exceeds All The World's Loves In Its Unworldliness.

What Of Soul Was Left, I Wonder, When The Kissing Had To Stop?

For I Say This Is Death And The Sole Death,- When A Man's Loss Comes To Him From His Gain, Darkness From Light, From Knowledge Ignorance, And Lack Of Love From Love Made Manifest.

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

The Great Mind Knows The Power Of Gentleness.

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

Thought Is The Soul Of Act.

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

How Good Is Life, The Mere Living!

When Pain Ends, Gain Ends Too.

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.

Then Welcome Each Rebuff That Turns Earth's Smoothness Rough, Each Sting That Bids Nor Sit Nor Stand, But Go! Be Our Joys Three-parts Pain! Strive, And Hold Cheap The Strain; Learn, Nor Account The Pang; Dare, Never Grudge The Throe!

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

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

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

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

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.

You Never Know What Life Means Till You Die; Even Throughout Life, Tis Death That Makes Life Live.

Mid The Sharp, Short Emerald Wheat, Scarce Risen Three Fingers Well, The Wild Tulip At The End Of Its Tube, Blows Out Its Great Red Bell, Like A Thin Clear Bubble Of Blood, For The Children To Pick And Sell.

God Is The Perfect Poet.

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.

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

Where The Heart Lies, Let The Brain Lie Also.

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

Positive Atheism

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

Truth Is Within Ourselves.

Fail I Alone, In Words And Deeds? Why, All Men Strive And Who Succeeds?

Love Is The Energy Of Life.

Only I Discern Infinite Passion, And The Pain Of Finite Hearts That Yearn.

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

Truth Never Hurt The Teller.

I Show You Doubt, To Prove That Faith Exists.

There Is Nothing So Unpardonable As To Consent To A Senseless, Aimless, Purposeless Life.

Time'swheelsrunsbackor Stops: Potterand Clayendure.

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

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

But There Are Times When Patience Proves At Fault.

If Two Lives Join, There Is Oft A Scar. They Are One And One, With A Shadowy Third; One Near One Is Too Far.

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.

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

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!

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

Paracelsus At Times I Almost Dream I Too Have Spent A Life The Sages’ Way, And Tread Once More Familiar Paths. Perchance I Perished In An Arrogant Self-reliance Ages Ago; And In That Act A Prayer For One More Chance Went Up So Earnest, So Instinct With Better Light Let In By Death, That Life Was Blotted Out — Not So Completely But Scattered Wrecks Enough Of It Remain, Dim Memories, As Now, When Once More Seems The Goal In Sight Again.

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

'tis An Awkward Thing To Play With Souls.

Shakespeare Was Of Us, Milton Was Of Us, Burns, Shelley, Were With Us. They Watch From Their Graves!

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.

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.

Night Conceals A World But Reveals A Universe.

Measure Your Mind's Height By The Shade It Casts.

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

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.

Good Strong Thick Stupefying Incense-smoke!

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

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

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.

And I Have Written Three Books On The Soul, Proving Absurd All Written Hitherto, And Putting Us To Ignorance Again.

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