Quotes by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese

Explore a curated collection of 8 quotes by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese. Discover timeless wisdom, insightful thoughts, and memorable words that have inspired readers around the world. Browse through the gallery below and click on any quote to read more.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.I love thee to the depth and breadth and heightMy soul can reach, when feeling — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.I love thee to the depth and breadth and heightMy soul can reach, when feeling — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.I love thee to the depth and breadth and heightMy soul can reach, when feeling — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese
My letters! all dead paper, mute and white!And yet they seem alive and quiveringAgainst my tremulous hands which loose t — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese
My letters! all dead paper, mute and white!And yet they seem alive and quiveringAgainst my tremulous hands which loose t — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese
My letters! all dead paper, mute and white!And yet they seem alive and quiveringAgainst my tremulous hands which loose t — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese
Quick-loving hearts ... may quickly loathe. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese
Quick-loving hearts ... may quickly loathe. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese
Quick-loving hearts ... may quickly loathe. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese
The picture of helpless indolence she calls herselfsublimely helpless and impotentI had done living I thoughtWas ever li — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese
The picture of helpless indolence she calls herselfsublimely helpless and impotentI had done living I thoughtWas ever li — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese
The picture of helpless indolence she calls herselfsublimely helpless and impotentI had done living I thoughtWas ever li — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese
And wilt thou have me fashion into speechThe love I bear thee, finding words enough,And hold the torch out, while the wi — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese
And wilt thou have me fashion into speechThe love I bear thee, finding words enough,And hold the torch out, while the wi — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese
And wilt thou have me fashion into speechThe love I bear thee, finding words enough,And hold the torch out, while the wi — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese
How, Dearest, wilt thou have me for most use?A hope, to sing by gladly? or a fineSad memory, with thy songs to interfuse — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese
How, Dearest, wilt thou have me for most use?A hope, to sing by gladly? or a fineSad memory, with thy songs to interfuse — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese
How, Dearest, wilt thou have me for most use?A hope, to sing by gladly? or a fineSad memory, with thy songs to interfuse — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese
And yet, because I love thee, I obtainFrom that same love this vindicating grace,To live on still in love, and yet in va — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese
And yet, because I love thee, I obtainFrom that same love this vindicating grace,To live on still in love, and yet in va — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese
And yet, because I love thee, I obtainFrom that same love this vindicating grace,To live on still in love, and yet in va — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese
I thought once how Theocritus had sungOf the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,Who each one in a gracious hand — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese
I thought once how Theocritus had sungOf the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,Who each one in a gracious hand — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese
I thought once how Theocritus had sungOf the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,Who each one in a gracious hand — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese