They are perfect; how else?-they shall never change: We are faulty; why not?-we have time in store.
Robert Browning (1812 - 1889)
Source: Old Pictures in Florence.
Contributed by: Zaady
God is the perfect poet, Who in his person acts his own creations.
Source: Paracelsus. Part ii.
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.
Stand still, true poet that you are! I know you; let me try and draw you. Some night you'll fail us: when afar You rise, remember one man saw you, Knew you, and named a star!
In the first is the last, in thy will is my power to believe.
Progress, man's distinctive mark alone, Not God's, and not the beasts: God is, they are; Man partly is, and wholly hopes to be.
Source: A Death in the Desert.
Most progress is most failure.
There 's a woman like a dewdrop, she 's so purer than the purest. A Blot in the 'Scutcheon.
Source: A Soul's Tragedy. Act i. Sc. iii.
Rafael made a century of sonnets.
Source: One Word More.
Any nose May ravage with impunity a rose.
Source: Sordello. Book vi.
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