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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.

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
Great
Details
Never
Tragedy
Life
Terrible
Fun
Days
War
Belgium
Felt
Happier
Better
Apart

More quotes by Rupert Brooke

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Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond But is there anything Beyond?
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.. . . would I were In Grantchester, in Grantchester!
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Down the blue night the unending columns press In noiseless tumult, break and wave and flow
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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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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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Hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
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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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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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Mud unto mud!--Death eddies near-- Not here the appointed End, not here! But somewhere, beyond Space and Time, Is wetter water, slimier slime!
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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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Ponder deep wisdom, dark or clear, Each secret fishy hope or fear. Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond But is there anything Beyond? This life cannot be All, they swear, For how unpleasant, if it were! One may not doubt that, somehow, Good Shall come of Water and of Mud And, sure, the reverent eye must see A Purpose in Liquidity.
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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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I have been so great a lover: filled my days So proudly with the splendour of Love's praise, The pain, the calm, and the astonishment, Desire illimitable, and silent content, And all dear names men use, to cheat despair, For the perplexed and viewless streams that bear Our hearts at random down the dark of life.
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Cities, like cats, will reveal themselves at night.
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The worst of slaves is he whom passion rules.
Rupert Brooke
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A kiss makes the heart young again and wipes out the years.
Rupert Brooke
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Proud, then, clear-eyed and laughing, go to greet Death as a friend!
Rupert Brooke
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But only agony, and that has ending And the worst friend and enemy is but Death.
Rupert Brooke