Quotes
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Now, helpless in the hollow of. An unarmorial age, a trough. Of smoke in slow suspended skeins. Above their scrap of history, Only an attitude remains: Time has transfigured them into. Untruth. The stone finality. They hardly meant has come to be. Their final blazon, and to prove. Our almost-instinct almost true: What will survive of us is love.
Philip Larkin
...men whose first coronary is coming like Christmas; who drift, loaded helplessly with commitments and obligations and necessary observances, into the darkening avenues of age and incapacity, deserted by everything that once made life sweet. These I have tried to remind of the excitement of jazz and tell where it may still be found.
Philip Larkin
Heads in the Women's Ward. On pillow after pillow lies. The wild white hair and staring eyes; Jaws stand open; necks are stretched. With every tendon sharply sketched; A bearded mouth talks silently. To someone no one else can see. Sixty years ago they smiled. At lover, husband, first-born child. Smiles are for youth. For old age come. Death's terror and delirium.
Philip Larkin
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