Quotes from Rupert Brooke

If I should die, think only this of me:That there's some corner of a foreign fieldThat is forever England.

Fish say, they have their stream and pond;But is there anything beyond?

And then you suddenly cried, and turned away.

I thought when love for you died, I should die. It's dead. Alone, most strangely, I live on.

A kiss makes the heart young again and wipes out the years.

Blow out, you bugles, over the rich dead!There's none of these so lonely and poor of old,But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold.

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.

All the little emptiness of love!

But somewhere, beyond Space and Time, is wetter water, slimier slime! And there (they trust) there swimmeth one who swam ere rivers were begun, immense of fishy form and mind, squamous omnipotent, and kind.

Oh! death will find me long before I tire of watching you.

Stands the Church clock at ten to three? And is there honey still for tea?

Mud unto mud!--Death eddies near-- Not here the appointed End, not here! But somewhere, beyond Space and Time, Is wetter water, slimier slime!

Love is a breach in the walls, a broken gate, Love sells the proud heart's citadel to fate.

The cool kindliness of sheets, that soon smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss of blankets.

Canada is a live country - live, but not, like the States, kicking.

If I should die, think only this of me: That there's some corner of a foreign field That is forever England.

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.

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.

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.

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.

But the best I've known Stays here, and changes, breaks, grows old, is blown About the winds of the world, and fades from brains Of living men, and dies.

But there's wisdom in women, of more than they have known, And thoughts go blowing through them, are wiser than their own.

I know what things are good: friendship and work and conversation. These I shall have.

Incredibly, inordinately, devastatingly, immortally, calamitously, hearteningly, adorably beautiful.