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More from Robert Browning

Progress is
The law of life: man is not Man as yet.

Paracelsus (1835)

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.

Paracelsus (1835)

Autumn wins you best by this its mute
Appeal to sympathy for its decay.

Paracelsus (1835)

Truth is within ourselves.

Paracelsus (1835)

The moment eternal — just that and no more —
When ecstasy’s utmost we clutch at the core
While cheeks burn, arms open, eyes shut and lips meet!

"Now" (1889)