155 Quotes by Robert Brown

So, one day more I am deified. / Who knows but the world may end tonight?

Round the cape of a sudden came the sea, And the sun looked over the mountain's rim: And straight was a path of gold for him, And the need of a world of men for me

Save when at noon his paunch grew mutinous / For a plate of turtle green and glutinous.

Schumann's our music-maker now; / Has his march-movement youth and mouth? Ingres's the modern man that paints; / Which will lean on me, of his saints? / Heine for songs; for kisses, how?

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

Or, my scrofulous French novel / On grey paper with blunt type! / Simply glance at it, you grovel / Hand and foot in Belial's gripe.

The moth's kiss, first! / Kiss me as if you made believe / You were not sure, this eve, / How my face, your flower, had pursed / Its petals up.

Do you see this square old yellow Book, I toss / I' the air, and catch again?

Dear dead women, with such hair, too - what's become of all the gold / Used to hang and brush their bosoms? I feel chilly and grow old.