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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.

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
Another
Best
Live
Writing
Things
Poetry
World
Read
Write
Three

More quotes by Rupert Brooke

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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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Mud unto mud!--Death eddies near-- Not here the appointed End, not here! But somewhere, beyond Space and Time, Is wetter water, slimier slime!
Rupert Brooke
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These laid the world away poured out the red Sweet wine of youth gave up the years to be Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene, That men call age and those who would have been, Their sons, they gave, their immortality.
Rupert Brooke
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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.
Rupert Brooke
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All the little emptiness of love!
Rupert Brooke
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Incredibly, inordinately, devastatingly, immortally, calamitously, hearteningly, adorably beautiful.
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.
Rupert Brooke
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.. . . would I were In Grantchester, in Grantchester!
Rupert Brooke
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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.
Rupert Brooke
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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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The worst of slaves is he whom passion rules.
Rupert Brooke
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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.
Rupert Brooke
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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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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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A kiss makes the heart young again and wipes out the years.
Rupert Brooke
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Just now the lilac is in bloom All before my little room.
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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Down the blue night the unending columns press In noiseless tumult, break and wave and flow
Rupert Brooke
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Youth is stranger than fiction.
Rupert Brooke
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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.
Rupert Brooke