Elizabeth Barrett Browning

But I love you, sir:_x000D_ _x000D_ And when a woman says she loves a man,_x000D_ _x000D_ The man must hear her, though he love her not.

I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless.

Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west.

And lips say “God be pitiful,” Who ne'er said “God be praised.”

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

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

Quick-loving hearts ... may quickly loathe.

Or from Browning some "Pomegranate," which if cut deep down the middle Shows a heart within blood-tinctured, of a veined humanity.

I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use

You were made perfectly to be loved - and surely I have loved you, in the idea of you, my whole life long.

It is not merely the likeness which is precious... but the association and the sense of nearness involved in the thing... the fact of the very shadow of the person lying there fixed forever! It is the very sanctification of portraits I think - and it is not at all monstrous in me to say that I would rather have such a memorial of one I dearly loved, than the noblest Artist's work ever produced.

There are nettles everywhere, but smooth, green grasses are more common still; the blue of heaven is larger than the cloud.

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

If thou must love me, let it be for naught except for love's sake only.

We all have known good critics, who have stamped out poet's hopes; Good statesmen, who pulled ruin on the state; Good patriots, who, for a theory, risked a cause; Good kings, who disemboweled for a tax; Good Popes, who brought all good to jeopardy; Good Christians, who sat still in easy-chairs; And damned the general world for standing up. Now, may the good God pardon all good men!

But since he had The genius to be loved, why let him have The justice to be honoured in his grave.

Smiles, tears, of all my life! - and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

The little cares that fretted me, I lost them yesterday Among the fields above the sea, Among the winds at play.

He said true things, but called them by wrong names.

And I smiled to think God's greatness flowed around our incompleteness; Round our restlessness, His rest.

But so fair, She takes the breath of men away Who gaze upon her unaware.