"Nothing, like something, happens anywhere."

Philip Larkin, from “I Remember, I Remember” (via proustitute)
@10 months ago with 138 notes
#philip larkin 

"It’s absolutely bloody amazing to think that anyone ever believed any of that. Really, it’s absolute balls. Beautiful, of course. But balls."

Philip Larkin on the Bible

(Source: independent.co.uk)

@1 year ago
#philip larkin #religion #bible #atheism #poetry #literature 
theparisreview: “Philip Larkin was the first poet I understood.” – David Orr, lost in the archives.

theparisreview:

“Philip Larkin was the first poet I understood.” – David Orr, lost in the archives.

(via libraryland)

@2 years ago with 57 notes
#philip larkin #poetry 

Sharing Poetry: Philip Larkin, "Spring" 

sharingpoetry:

Green-shadowed people sit, or walk in rings,
Their children finger the awakened grass,
Calmly a cloud stands, calmly a bird sings,
And, flashing like a dangled-looking glass,
Sun lights the balls that bounce, the dogs that bark,
The branch-arrested mist of leaf, and me,
Threading my pursed-up way…

@2 years ago with 11 notes
#philip larkin #poetry 

"I can’t understand these chaps who go round American universities explaining how they write poems: it’s like going round explaining how you sleep with your wife. Whoever I was talking to said, They’d do that, too, if their agents could fix it."

Philip Larkin (via thebronzemedal)

(via libraryland)

@2 years ago with 64 notes
#philip larkin #poetry #education 

theatlantic:

libraryjournal:

To celebrate National Poem in Your Pocket Day, the Library Journal tumblr offers Philip Larkin’s “Aubade.” 

Nice one! Christopher Hitchens wrote about Philip Larkin, “the impossible man,” in the May 2011 issue of The Atlantic.


My granddad knew Larkin. True story.

@1 year ago with 229 notes
#philip larkin #poetry 
Philip Larkin, 1922–1985.

Philip Larkin, 1922–1985.

@1 year ago
#philip larkin 

“Days” by Philip Larkin

libraryland:

What are days for?
Days are where we live.
They come, they wake us
Time and time over.
They are to be happy in:
Where can we live but days?

Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor
In their long coats
Running over the fields.

@2 years ago with 88 notes
#philip larkin #poetry 

: Aubade 

melancholynotes:

by Philip Larkin

I work all day, and get half-drunk at night.
Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare.
In time the curtain-edges will grow light.
Till then I see what’s really always there:
Unresting death, a whole day nearer now,
Making all thought impossible but how
And where and when…

(Source: growing-orbits)

@2 years ago with 32 notes
#philip larkin #poetry 

arsvitaest: Aubade  

arsvitaest:

by Philip Larkin


I work all day, and get half-drunk at night.
Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare.
In time the curtain-edges will grow light.
Till then I see what's really always there:
Unresting death, a whole day nearer now,
Making all thought impossible but how
And where and when I...

(Source: awritersruminations)

@2 years ago with 85 notes
#poetry #philip larkin 
"Nothing, like something, happens anywhere."
Philip Larkin, from “I Remember, I Remember” (via proustitute)
10 months ago
#philip larkin 
1 year ago
#philip larkin #poetry 
"It’s absolutely bloody amazing to think that anyone ever believed any of that. Really, it’s absolute balls. Beautiful, of course. But balls."
Philip Larkin on the Bible

(Source: independent.co.uk)

1 year ago
#philip larkin #religion #bible #atheism #poetry #literature 
Philip Larkin, 1922–1985.
1 year ago
#philip larkin 
theparisreview: “Philip Larkin was the first poet I understood.” – David Orr, lost in the archives.
2 years ago
#philip larkin #poetry 
“Days” by Philip Larkin

libraryland:

What are days for?
Days are where we live.
They come, they wake us
Time and time over.
They are to be happy in:
Where can we live but days?

Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor
In their long coats
Running over the fields.

2 years ago
#philip larkin #poetry 
Sharing Poetry: Philip Larkin, "Spring"→

sharingpoetry:

Green-shadowed people sit, or walk in rings,
Their children finger the awakened grass,
Calmly a cloud stands, calmly a bird sings,
And, flashing like a dangled-looking glass,
Sun lights the balls that bounce, the dogs that bark,
The branch-arrested mist of leaf, and me,
Threading my pursed-up way…

2 years ago
#philip larkin #poetry 
: Aubade→

melancholynotes:

by Philip Larkin

I work all day, and get half-drunk at night.
Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare.
In time the curtain-edges will grow light.
Till then I see what’s really always there:
Unresting death, a whole day nearer now,
Making all thought impossible but how
And where and when…

(Source: growing-orbits)

2 years ago
#philip larkin #poetry 
"I can’t understand these chaps who go round American universities explaining how they write poems: it’s like going round explaining how you sleep with your wife. Whoever I was talking to said, They’d do that, too, if their agents could fix it."
Philip Larkin (via thebronzemedal)

(via libraryland)

2 years ago
#philip larkin #poetry #education 
arsvitaest: Aubade →

arsvitaest:

by Philip Larkin


I work all day, and get half-drunk at night.
Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare.
In time the curtain-edges will grow light.
Till then I see what's really always there:
Unresting death, a whole day nearer now,
Making all thought impossible but how
And where and when I...

(Source: awritersruminations)

2 years ago
#poetry #philip larkin