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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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Rupert Brooke
Age: 28 †
Born: 1887
Born: January 1
Died: 1915
Died: January 1
Poet
Rugby
Warwickshire
Rupert Chawner Brooke
Rupert Chaucer Brooke
Wise
Stores
Wisdom
Clever
Moments
Draw
Need
Content
Great
Calm
Needs
Draws
Later
Reservoirs
Source
Store
More quotes by Rupert Brooke
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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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 have need to busy my heart with quietude.
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A kiss makes the heart young again and wipes out the years.
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And in that Heaven of all their wish, there shall be no more land, say fish
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Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond But is there anything Beyond?
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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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Just now the lilac is in bloom All before my little room.
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Down the blue night the unending columns press In noiseless tumult, break and wave and flow
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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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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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The cool kindliness of sheets, that soon smooth away trouble and the rough male kiss of blankets.
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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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Hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
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There's little comfort in the wise
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Youth is stranger than fiction.
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Cities, like cats, will reveal themselves at night.
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But only agony, and that has ending And the worst friend and enemy is but Death.
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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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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