Author: Robert Browning

Cited by

• A.S. Byatt (1)
  • IN: Possession (1990) Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: And if at whiles the bubble, blown too thin, Seem nigh on bursting,—if you nearly see The real world through the false,—what do you see? Is the old so ruined? You find you ’re in a flock O’ the youthful, earnest, passionate—genius, beauty, Rank and wealth also, if you care for these: And all depose their natural rights, hail you, (That ’s me, sir) as their mate and yoke-fellow, Participate in Sludgehood -- nay, grow mine, I veritably possess them--... // And all this might be, may be, and with good help Of a little lying shall be: so Sludge lies! Why, he's at worst your poet who sings how Greeks That never were, in Troy which never was, Did this or the other impossible great thing!... But why do I mount to poets? Take plain prose— Dealers in common sense, set these at work, What can they do without their helpful lies? Each states the law and fact and face o’ the thing Just as he’d have them, finds what he thinks fit, Is blind to what missuits him, just records What makes his case out, quite ignores the rest. It ’s a History of the World, the Lizard Age, The Early Indians, the Old Country War, Jerome Napoleon, whatsoever you please, All as the author wants it. Such a scribe You pay and praise for putting life in stones, Fire into fog, making the past your world. There’s plenty of “How did you contrive to grasp “The thread which led you through this labyrinth? “How build such solid fabric out of air? “How on so slight foundation found this tale? “Biography, narrative?” or, in other words, “How many lies did it require to make “The portly truth you here present us with?”
    FROM: "Mr Sludge", "The Medium", (1864), Poem, UK
• Ethel Turner (2)
  • IN: The Wonder-Child (1901) Novel, Australian
    EPIGRAPH: The common problem, yours, mine, every one's, Is, not to fancy what were fair in life, Provided it could be,-- but finding first Whay may be, then find how to make it fair Up to our means
    FROM: Bishop Blougram's Apology, (1855), Poem, UK
• Morris West (1)
  • IN: The Clowns of God (1981) Fiction, Australian
    EPIGRAPH: Who knows but the world may end tonight?
    FROM: The Last Ride Together, (1855), Poem, UK
• Annabel Pitcher (1)
  • IN: Yours Truly (2012) Fiction, Young Adult Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: How sad and bad and mad it was -- but then, how it was sweet!
    FROM: Confessions, (1864), Book, UK
• Philip Womack (1)
  • IN: The Broken King (2014) Fiction, Young Adult Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: Dauntless the slug-horn to my lips I set And blew, 'Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came'
    FROM: Childre Roland to the Dark Tower Came, (1855), Poem, UK
• Boyd Anderson (1)
  • IN: The Heart Radical (2014) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Grow old with me The best is yet to be, The last of life, for which the first was made
    FROM: Rabbi Ben Ezra, (1864), Poem, UK
• Kyril Bonfiglioli (18)
  • IN: Mortdecai (1972) Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: So, I soberly laid my last plan To extinguish the man. Round his creep-hole, with never a break Ran my fires for his sake; Over-head, did my thunder combine With my underground mine: Till I looked from my labour content To enjoy the event.
    FROM: Instans Tyrannus, (1855), Poem, UK
  • IN: Don't Point That Thing At Me (1972) Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: So old a story, and tell it no better?
    FROM: Pippa Passes, (1841), Poem, UK
• Orhan Pamuk (2)
  • IN: Snow (2002) Fiction, NULL
    EPIGRAPH: Our interest's on the dangerous edge of things. The honest thief, the tender murderer, The superstitious athest.
    FROM: "Bishop Blougram's Apology", (1855), Poem, UK
• A. S. Byatt (1)
  • IN: Possession (1990) Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: And if at whiles the bubble, blown too thin, Seem nigh on bursting,—if you nearly see The real world through the false,—what do you see? Is the old so ruined? You find you ’re in a flock O’ the youthful, earnest, passionate—genius, beauty, Rank and wealth also, if you care for these: And all depose their natural rights, hail you, (That ’s me, sir) as their mate and yoke-fellow, Participate in Sludgehood—nay, grow mine, I veritably possess them—... And all this might be, may be, and with good help Of a little lying shall be: so, Sludge lies! Why, he ’s at worst your poet who sings how Greeks That never were, in Troy which never was, Did this or the other impossible great thing!... But why do I mount to poets? Take plain prose— Dealers in common sense, set these at work, What can they do without their helpful lies? Each states the law and fact and face o’ the thing Just as he’d have them, finds what he thinks fit, Is blind to what missuits him, just records What makes his case out, quite ignores the rest. It ’s a History of the World, the Lizard Age, The Early Indians, the Old Country War, Jerome Napoleon, whatsoever you please, All as the author wants it. Such a scribe You pay and praise for putting life in stones, Fire into fog, making the past your world. There’s plenty of “How did you contrive to grasp “The thread which led you through this labyrinth? “How build such solid fabric out of air? “How on so slight foundation found this tale? “Biography, narrative?” or, in other words, “How many lies did it require to make “The portly truth you here present us with?”
    FROM: Mr Sludge, “the Medium”, (1864), Poem, UK
• Peter Robinson (1)
  • IN: Close To Home (aka The Summer That Never Was) (2002) Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: The glory dropped from their youth and love, And both perceived they had dreamed a dream; Which hovered as dreams do, still above: But who can take a dream for a truth?
    FROM: The Statue and the Bust, (1855), Poem, UK
• Stephen King (1)
  • IN: The Dark Tower IV: Wizard and Glass (1997) Fiction, Fantasy, American
    EPIGRAPH: I asked one draught of earlier, happier sights, Ere fitly I could hope to play my part. Think first, fight afterwards—the soldier’s art: One taste of the old time sets all to rights!
    FROM: Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came, (1855), Poem, UK
• Daisy Goodwin (1)
  • IN: The American Heiress (2010) Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: That's my last Duchess painted on the wall.
    FROM: My Last Duchess, (1842), Poem, UK
• David Morrell (1)
  • IN: Burnt Sienna (2000) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall, Looking as if she were alive
    FROM: My Last Duchess, (1842), Poem, NULL
• Robert Parker (1)
  • IN: Taming a Sea Horse (1986) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Nay, we'll go Together down, sir: Notice Neptune though, Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity, Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!
    FROM: My Last Duchess, (1842), Poem, UK
• Connie Willis (1)
  • IN: Bellwether (1996) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives— Followed the Piper for their lives. From street to street he piped advancing, And step by step they followed dancing.
    FROM: The Pied Piper of Hamelin, (1842), Poem, UK
• Brian McGilloway (1)
  • IN: Gallows Lane (None) Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: And thus we sit together now, And all night long we have not stirred, And yet God has not said a word!
    FROM: Porphyria’s Lover, (1836), Poem, UK
• Kate Saunders (1)
  • IN: The Secrets of Wishtide (2016) Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: I was so young, I loved him so, I had No mother, God forgot me, and I fell.
    FROM: A Blot in the 'Scutcheon, (1843), Book, UK
• Dan Simmons (1)
  • IN: Ilium (2003) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: A bitter heart that bides its time and bites.
    FROM: Caliban upon Setebos, (1864), NULL, UK
• Guillermo Orsi (1)
  • IN: Holy City (2009) Fiction, NULL
    EPIGRAPH: You were the messenger of my death, Of my metamorphosis.
    FROM: NULL, (None), [NA], UK
• Scott Mariani (1)
  • IN: The Armada Legacy (2013) Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall, Looking as if she were alive. I call That piece a wonder, now: Frà Pandolf’s hands Worked busily a day, and there she stands. Will’t please you sit and look at her?
    FROM: My Last Duchess, (1842), Poem, UK
• Linda Castillo (1)
  • IN: Down A Dark Road (2017) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: That's all we may expect of man, this side The grave: his good is--knowing he is bad.
    FROM: The Ring and the Book, (1869), Poem, UK
• Megan Chance (1)
  • IN: City of Ash (2011) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Leave the fire ashes, what survives is gold.
    FROM: Rabbi ben Ezra, (1864), Poem, UK
• Mavis Cheek (1)
  • IN: Truth to Tell (2010) Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: So absolutely good is truth, truth never hurts The teller.
    FROM: Fifine at the Fair, (1872), Poem, UK
• Mary Augusta Ward (1)
  • IN: Eleanor (1900) Novel, British
    EPIGRAPH: I would that you were all to me, You that are just so much, no more. Nor yours nor mine, nor slave nor free! Where does the fault lie? What the core O' the wound, since wound must be?
    FROM: Two in the Campagna, (1855), Poem, UK
• Janette Turner Hospital (1)
  • IN: Due Preparations for the Plague (2003) Fiction, Australian
    EPIGRAPH: Fear death? To feel the fog in my throat, the mist in my face ...
    FROM: Prospice, (1864), Poem, UK
• Craig Johnson (1)
  • IN: Junkyard Dogs (2010) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Oh heart! Oh blood that freezes, blood that burns! Earth's returns For whole centuries of folly, noise and sin! Shut them in, With their triumphs and their glories and the rest! Love is best.
    FROM: Love Among the Ruins, (1885), Poem, UK
• Wendy Perriam (1)
  • IN: Lying (2000) Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: All we have gained then by our unbelief Is a life of doubt diversified by faith For one of faith diversified by doubt: We called the chess-board white -- we call it black.
    FROM: "Bishop Blougram's Apology", (None), NULL, UK
• John Mortimer (1)
  • IN: Quite Honestly (2005) Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: Our interest's on the dangerous edge of things. The honest thief, the tender murderer.
    FROM: "Bishop Blougram's Apology", (None), NULL, UK