A writer can have only one language, if language is going to mean anything to him. — Philip Larkin Copy Share Image
Dear, I can't write, it's all a fantasy: a kind of circling obsession. — Philip Larkin Copy Share Image
I am not sure, once a poet has found out what has been written already, and how it was written - once,… — Philip Larkin Copy Share Image
It is fatal to decide, intellectually, what good poetry is because you are then in honour bound to try to write it,… — Philip Larkin Copy Share Image
There is bad in all good authors: what a pity the converse isn't true! — Philip Larkin Copy Share Image
When I get sent manuscripts from aspiring poets, I do one of two things: if there is no stamped self-addressed envelope, I… — Philip Larkin Copy Share Image
“Often one spends weeks trying to write a poem out of the conscious mind that never comes to anything - these are… — Philip Larkin Copy Share Image
It's easy to write when you've nothing to write about (That is, when you are young). — 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 think writing about unhappiness is probably the source of my popularity, if I have any - after all, most people are… — Philip Larkin Copy Share Image
Novels seem to me to be richer, broader, deeper, more enjoyable than poems. — Philip Larkin Copy Share Image
A writer once said to me, If you ever go to America, go either to the East Coast or the West Coast:… — 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
