Seriously, I think it is a grave fault in life that so much time is wasted in social matters, because it not only takes up time when you might be doing individual private things, but it prevents you storing up… — Philip Larkin Copy Share Image
I never think of poetry or the poetry scene, only separate poems written by individuals. — Philip Larkin Copy Share Image
Only one ship is seeking us, a black-Sailed unfamiliar, towing at her backA huge and birdless silence. In her wakeNo waters breed or break. — Philip Larkin Copy Share Image
And immediately Rather than words comes the thought of high windows: The sun-comprehending glass, And beyond it, the deep blue air, that shows Nothing,… — Philip Larkin Copy Share Image
“Once I am sure there's nothing going on I step inside, letting the door thud shut. Another church: matting, seats, and stone, And little… — Philip Larkin Copy Share Image
Life is first boredom, then fear. Whether or not we use it, it goes, And leaves what something hidden from us chose, age, and… — Philip Larkin Copy Share Image
“It never worked for me. Something to do with violence A long way back, and wrong rewards, And arrogant eternity.” — Philip Larkin Copy Share Image
Seriously, I think it is a grave fault in life that so much time is wasted in social matters, because it not only takes… — Philip Larkin Copy Share Image
So many things I had thought forgotten Return to my mind with stranger pain: Like letters that arrive addressed to someone Who left the… — Philip Larkin Copy Share Image
“One of the quainter quirks of life is that we shall never know who dies on the same day as we do ourselves.” — Philip Larkin Copy Share Image
“I sit in my room like Miss Havisham, about whom I have been reading this week. Better the Dickens you know than the Dickens… — Philip Larkin Copy Share Image
“When I throw back my head and howl People (women mostly) say But you've always done what you want, You always get your way… — Philip Larkin Copy Share Image
