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A book may be compared to your neighbor: if it be good, it cannot last too long if bad, you cannot get rid of it too early.

Rupert Brooke

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Rupert Brooke
Age: 28 †
Born: 1887
Born: January 1
Died: 1915
Died: January 1
Poet
Rugby
Warwickshire
Rupert Chawner Brooke
Rupert Chaucer Brooke
Lasts
Last
Funny
Neighbour
Cannot
Compared
May
Neighbor
Book
Library
Long
Early
Good
Reading

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And in that Heaven of all their wish, there shall be no more land, say fish
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There are only three things in the world, one is to read poetry, another is to write poetry, and the best of all is to live poetry.
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Now, God be thanked Who has matched us with His hour, And caught our youth, and wakened us from sleeping, With hand made sure, clear eye, and sharpened power, To turn, as swimmers into cleanness leaping.
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Breathless, we flung us on a windy hill, Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.
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And I shall find some girl perhaps, and a better one than you, With eyes as wise, but kindlier, and lips as soft, but true, and I dare say she will do.
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Hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
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It's all a terrible tragedy. And yet, in it's details, it's great fun. And - apart from the tragedy - I've never felt happier or better in my life than in those days in Belgium.
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Youth is stranger than fiction.
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All the little emptiness of love!
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A kiss makes the heart young again and wipes out the years.
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But there's wisdom in women, of more than they have known, And thoughts go blowing through them, are wiser than their own.
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If I should die, think only this of me: that there's some corner of a foreign field that is for ever England.
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I shall desire and I shall find The best of my desires The autumn road, the mellow wind That soothes the darkening shires. And laughter, and inn-fires.
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Down the blue night the unending columns press In noiseless tumult, break and wave and flow
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War knows no power. Safe shall be my going, Secretly armed against all death's endeavour Safe though all safety's lost safe where men fall And if these poor limbs die, safest of all.
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Canada is a live country - live, but not, like the States, kicking.
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In your arms was still delight, Quiet as a street at night And thoughts of you, I do remember, Were green leaves in a darkened chamber, Were dark clouds in a moonless sky.
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Incredibly, inordinately, devastatingly, immortally, calamitously, hearteningly, adorably beautiful.
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Just now the lilac is in bloom All before my little room.
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Cities, like cats, will reveal themselves at night.
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