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Infinite hungers leap no more I in the chance swaying of your dress and love has changed to kindliness.

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
Chance
Kindliness
Love
Swaying
Leap
Dress
Dresses
Hunger
Infinite
Changed
Hungers

More quotes by Rupert Brooke

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Proud, then, clear-eyed and laughing, go to greet Death as a friend!
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But only agony, and that has ending And the worst friend and enemy is but Death.
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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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Spend in pure converse our eternal day Think each in each, immediately wise Learn all we lacked before hear, know, and say What this tumultuous body now denies And feel, who have laid our groping hands away And see, no longer blinded by our eyes.
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Love is a breach in the walls, a broken gate, Love sells the proud heart's citadel to fate.
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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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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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A kiss makes the heart young again and wipes out the years.
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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.
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Incredibly, inordinately, devastatingly, immortally, calamitously, hearteningly, adorably beautiful.
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Youth is stranger than fiction.
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I have need to busy my heart with quietude.
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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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Just now the lilac is in bloom All before my little room.
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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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Hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
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Oh! death will find me, long before I tire Of watching for you and swing me suddenly Into the shade and loneliness and mire Of the last land!
Rupert Brooke
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Store up reservoirs of calm and content and draw on them at later moments when the source isn't there, but the need is very great.
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Cities, like cats, will reveal themselves at night.
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.. . . would I were In Grantchester, in Grantchester!
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