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I think that at the bottom of all art lies the impulse to preserve.
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
Lying
Art
Think
Thinking
Preserve
Preserves
Impulse
Bottom
Lies
More quotes by Philip Larkin
I am beginning to think of the human imagination as a fruit machine on which victories are rare and separated by much vain expense, and represent a rare alignment of mental and spiritual qualities that normally are quite at odds.
Philip Larkin
Saki says that youth is like hors d'oeuvres: you are so busy thinking of the next courses you don't notice it. When you've had them, you wish you'd had more hors d'oeuvres.
Philip Larkin
And the case of butterflies so rich it looks As if all summer settled there and died.
Philip Larkin
Here no elsewhere underwrites my existence.
Philip Larkin
Home is so sad. It stays as it was left, / Shaped to the comfort of the last to go / As if to win them back
Philip Larkin
All the unhurried day / Your mind lay open like a drawer of knives.
Philip Larkin
SEX is designed for people who like overcoming obstacles.
Philip Larkin
As a child, I thought I hated everybody, but when I grew up I realized it was just children I didn't like.
Philip Larkin
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.
Philip Larkin
Still, vicious or virtuous, Love suits most of us.
Philip Larkin
Any memory for the most part depending on chance.
Philip Larkin
One of the great criticisms of poets of the past is that they said one thing and did another.
Philip Larkin
Joy Is for the simple or the great to feel, Neither of which we are.
Philip Larkin
The trees are coming into leaf Like something almost being said.
Philip Larkin
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.
Philip Larkin
Now, helpless in the hollow of An unarmorial age, a trough Of smoke in slow suspended skeins Above their scrap of history, Only an attitude remains: Time has transfigured them into Untruth. The stone finality 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.
Philip Larkin
My age fallen away like white swaddling Floats in the middle distance, becomes An inhabited cloud.
Philip Larkin
The chromatic scale is what you use to give the effect of drinking a quinine martini and having an enema simultaneously.
Philip Larkin
I have wished you something None of the others would.
Philip Larkin
I work all day, and get half-drunk at night.
Philip Larkin
