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God Is The Perfect Poet, Who In His Person Acts His Own Creations.
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God is the perfect poet,
Who in his person acts his own creations.
-- Robert Browning (1812-1890)
-- Paracelsus, Part ii
Related:
That we devote ourselves to God, is seen In living just as though no God there were.
-- Robert Browning (1812-1890) -- Paracelsus, Part i...
Be sure that God Ne'er dooms to waste the strength he deigns impart.
-- Robert Browning (1812-1890) -- Paracelsus, Part i...
The sad rhyme of the men who proudly clung To their first fault, and withered in their pride.
-- Robert Browning (1812-1890) -- Paracelsus, Part iv...
Are there not, dear Michal, Two points in the adventure of the diver,-- One, when a beggar he prepares to plunge
One, when a prince he rises with his pearl? Festus, I plunge....
God 's in his heaven: All 's right with the world.
-- Robert Browning (1812-1890) -- Pippa Passes, Part i...
I see my way as birds their trackless way. I shall arrive,--what time, what circuit first, I ask no
but unless God send his hail Or blinding fire-balls, sleet or stifling snow, In some time, his good time, I shall arrive...
I give the fight up: let there be an end, A privacy, an obscure nook for me.
I want to be forgotten even by God. -- Robert Browning (1812-1890) -- Paracelsus, Part v...
Progress is The law of life: man is not Man as yet.
-- Robert Browning (1812-1890) -- Paracelsus, Part v...
Let him who plays the monarch be a king; Who plays the rogue, be perfect in his part. -- Erskine