„I praise Thee while my days go on;
I love Thee while my days go on“

—  Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Context: p>I praise Thee while my days go on; I love Thee while my days go on: Through dark and dearth, through fire and frost, With emptied arms and treasure lost, I thank Thee while my days go on.And having in thy life-depth thrown Being and suffering (which are one), As a child drops his pebble small Down some deep well, and hears it fall Smiling — so I. THY DAYS GO ON.</p St. 23 -24.
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„I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! —and, if God choose,
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—  Elizabeth Barrett Browning English poet, author 1806 - 1861
Context: How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday's Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life! —and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death. No. LXIII

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„I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.“

—  Elizabeth Barrett Browning English poet, author 1806 - 1861
Context: How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. Context: How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday's Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life! —and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death. No. LXIII

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