“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
“Poetry is nobody’s business except the poet’s, and everybody else can fuck off.” — Philip Larkin Copy Share Image
“Always too eager for the future, we Pick up bad habits of expectancy. Something is always approaching; every day Till then we… — Philip Larkin Copy Share Image
“Birthdays are a time when one stock takes, which means, I suppose, a good spineless mope: I scan my horizon and can… — Philip Larkin Copy Share Image
I can't understand these chaps who go round American universities explaining how they write poems: It's like going round explaining how you… — Philip Larkin Copy Share Image
Novels seem to me to be richer, broader, deeper, more enjoyable than poems. — Philip Larkin Copy Share Image
“How hard it is, to be forced to the conclusion that people should be, nine tenths of the time, left alone! -… — 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
