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What are days for? Days are where we live.

Philip Larkin

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Philip Larkin
Age: 63 †
Born: 1922
Born: August 9
Died: 1985
Died: December 2
Critic
Journalist
Librarian
Music Critic
Music Journalist
Novelist
Poet
Writer
Coventry
England
UK
Philip Arthur Larkin
Days
Live

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Everyone should be forcibly transplanted to another continent from their family at the age of three.
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Still, vicious or virtuous, Love suits most of us.
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Get stewed:Books are a load of crap.
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Only one ship is seeking us, a black-Sailed unfamiliar, towing at her backA huge and birdless silence. In her wakeNo waters breed or break.
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I work all day, and get half-drunk at night.
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It becomes still more difficult to find Words at once true and kind, Or not untrue and not unkind.
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In everyone there sleeps. A sense of life lived according to love. To some it means the difference they could make. By loving others, but across most it sweeps. As all they might have done had they been loved. That nothing cures.
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I don't think I write well - just better than anyone else.
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The chromatic scale is what you use to give the effect of drinking a quinine martini and having an enema simultaneously.
Philip Larkin
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To write you must be warm, fed, loved and sober.
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One of the great criticisms of poets of the past is that they said one thing and did another.
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Joy Is for the simple or the great to feel, Neither of which we are.
Philip Larkin
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Depression hangs over me as if I were Iceland.
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Life and literature is a question of what one thrills to, and further than that no man shall ever go without putting his foot in a turd.
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I have no enemies. But my friends don't like me.
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We should be careful / Of each other, we should be kind / While there is still time.
Philip Larkin
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Walk with the dead For fear of death.
Philip Larkin
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Give me a thrill, says the reader, Give me a kick I don't care how you succeed, or What subject you pick.
Philip Larkin
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The trees are coming into leaf Like something almost being said.
Philip Larkin
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A writer once said to me, If you ever go to America, go either to the East Coast or the West Coast: The rest is a desert full of bigots. That's what I think I'd like . . . a version of pastoral.
Philip Larkin