96 ordspråk av Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Elizabeth Barrett Browning föddes den 6 marts 1806 och dog den 29 juni 1861 - engelsk skaldinna
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What monster have we here? A great Deed at this hour of day? A great just deed -- and not for pay? Absurd -- or insincere?

The man, most man, works best for men: and, if most man indeed, he gets his manhood plainest from his soul.

In the pleasant orchard closes, / `God bless all our gains', say we; / But `May God bless all our losses' / Better suits with our degree.

A woman cannot do the thing she ought, which means whatever perfect thing she can, in life, in art, in science, but she fears to let the perfect action take her part and rest there: she must prove what she can do before she does it, / prate of woman's rights, of woman's mission, woman's function, till the men (who are prating, too, on their side) cry, ''A woman's function plainly is... to talk'.' Poor souls, they are very reasonably vexed!

The works of women are symbolical. We sew, sew, prick our fingers, dull our sight, producing what? A pair of slippers, sir, to put on when you're weary -- or a stool. To stumble over and vex you... ''curse that stool!'' Or else at best, a cushion, where you lean and sleep, and dream of something we are not, but would be for your sake. Alas, alas! This hurts most, this... that, after all, we are paid the worth of our work, perhaps.

Our Euripides, the human, / With his droppings of warm tears, / And his touches of things common / Till they rose to touch the spheres.

O earth, so full of dreary noises! / O men, with wailing in your voices! / O delvèd gold, the wailers heap! / O strife, O curse, that o'er it fall! / God strikes a silence through you all, / And giveth his beloved, sleep.

Eve is a twofold mystery.

And kings crept out again to feel the sun.

He's just, your cousin, ay, abhorrently; He'd wash his hands in blood, to keep them clean

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

Children use the fist / Until they are of the age to use the brain.

Like some small nimble mouse between the ribs / Of a mastodon, I nibbled here and there / At this or that box, pulling through the gap, / In heats of terror, haste, victorious joy, / The first book first.

Experience, like a pale musician, holds a dulcimer of patience in his hand.

The iron gate ground its teeth to let me pass! Commodore 64 er den computer, der tiltrækker demo-programmering. The iron gate ground its teeth to let me pass!

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