If grief could burn out Like a sunken coal, The heart would rest quiet, The unrent soul Be still as a veil; But I have watched all night The fire grow silent, The grey ash soft: And I stir the stubborn flint The flames have left, And grief stirs, and the deft Heart lies impotent. Philip Larkin
I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.
-
Pablo Neruda
It is strange how a scrap of poetry works in the mind and makes the legs move in time to it along the road.
-
Virginia Woolf
Sweetest smile is made saddest tear-drop!
-
Edwin Arnold
The true poem rests between the words.
-
Vanna Bonta
Sometimes he did not know if he slept or just thought about sleep.
-
Mark Strand
More Quotes By Philip Larkin
What will survive of us is love.
Time has transfigured them into Untruth. The stone fidelity They hardly meant has come to be Their final blazon, and to prove Our almost-instinct almost true: What will survive of us is love.
I'm terrified of the thought of time passing (or whatever is meant by that phrase) whether I 'do' anything or not. In a way I may believe, deep down, that doing nothing acts as a brake on 'time's - it doesn't of course. It merely...
I seem to walk on a transparent surface and see beneath me all the bones and wrecks and tentacles that will eventually claim me: in other words, old age, incapacity, loneliness, death of others & myself...
One of the quainter quirks of life is that we shall never know who dies on the same day as we do ourselves.
