I have done most of my talking by post of late years--as

Image, I have done most of my talking by post of late years–as

I have done most of my talking by post of late years–as people shut up in dungeons take up with scrawling mottoes on the walls.

—Elizabeth Barrett Browning

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Image, And I smiled to think God’s greatness flowed around our incompleteness; Round

Image, Every wish Is like a prayer–with God.

Image, True knowledge comes only through suffering.

Image, The beautiful seems right by force of beauty and the feeble wrong because of weakness.

Image, His ears were often the first thing to catch my tears.

Image, But the child’s sob curses deeper in the silence than the strong man in his wrath!

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

Image, How many desolate creatures on the earth have learnt the simple dues

Image, The English have a scornful insular way Of calling the French light.

Image, There Shakespeare, on whose forehead climb The crowns o’ the world; oh,

Image, Life, struck sharp on death, Makes awful lightning.

Image, First time he kissed me, he but only kissed The fingers of

Image, But love me for love’s sake, that evermore Thou may’st love on, through love’s eternity.

Image, And yet, because I love thee, I obtain From that same love

Image, We can’t separate our humanity from our poetry …

Image, Who so loves believes the impossible.

Image, You’re something between a dream and a miracle.

Image, Death forerunneth Love to win “Sweetest eyes were ever seen.”

Image, The Holy Night We sate among the stalls at Bethlehem; The dumb

Image, I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless.

Image, Folded eyes see brighter colors than the open ever do.

Image, The devil’s most devilish when respectable.

Image, Knowledge by suffering entereth, And life is perfected by death.

Image, Whatever’s lost, it first was won.

Image, I work with patience, which is almost power.

Image, For ‘Tis not in mere death that men die most.

Image, And lilies are still lilies, pulled By smutty hands, though spotted from their white.

Image, With stammering lips and insufficient sound I strive and struggle to deliver

Image, I wish I were the lily’s leaf To fade upon that bosom

Image, He’s just, your cousin, ay, abhorrently, He’d wash his hands in blood, to keep them clean.