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There’s a cool web of language winds us in, Retreat from too much joy or too much fear: We grow sea-green at last and coldly die In brininess and volubility.

Robert Graves

I don’t really feel my poems are mine at all. I didn’t create them out of nothing. I owe them to my relations with other people.
ROBERT GRAVES

Beautiful Effect Impress Impressive Noble People Poet Poetry Relation Result Saying Simplicity Widely
About this business of being a gentleman: I paid so heavily for the fourteen years of my gentleman’s education that I feel entitled, now and then, to get some sort of return.
ROBERT GRAVES

Business Education Gentleman Heavily Return
There is one story and one story only.
ROBERT GRAVES

Art And Culture Craft Dance History One Liner Ourselves Soul Story Together
When I’m killed, don’t think of me Buried there in Cambrin Wood, Nor as in Zion think of me With the Intolerable Good. And there’s one thing that I know well, I’m damned if I’ll be damned to Hell!
ROBERT GRAVES

Goodness Hell Kill Myself Thinking Tolerance
Anthropologists are a connecting link between poets and scientists; though their field-work among primitive peoples has often made them forget the language of science.
ROBERT GRAVES

Connect Experiment Field Language Link Motivation Poet Practical Risk Scientist Success Theory
Take your delight in momentariness, Walk between dark and dark a shining space With the grave ‘s narrowness, though not its peace.
ROBERT GRAVES

Art Calm Dark Happiness Knowledge Positive Shine Smile Space Top
Marriage, like money, is still with us; and, like money, progressively devalued.
ROBERT GRAVES

Easy Family Funny Life Marriage Precious Time Together Trust Witty World
I made no more protests. What was the use of struggling against fate.
ROBERT GRAVES

Fate Myself Protest Struggle
Before an attack, the platoon pools all its available cash and the survivors divide it up afterwards. Those who are killed can’t complain, the wounded would have given far more than that to escape as they have, and the unwounded regard the money as a consolation prize for still being here.
ROBERT GRAVES

Complaining Emotion Hero Legend Life Power Risk Strong Survivor War
The decline of true taste for food is the beginning of a decline in a national culture as a whole. When people have lost their authentic personal taste, they lose their personality and become the instruments of other people’s wills.
ROBERT GRAVES

Character Culture Grow Hour Mature People Perfection Personality
Any honest housewife would sort them out, Having a nose for fish, an eye for apples.
ROBERT GRAVES
Love at first sight’some say misnaming Discovery of twinned helplessness Against the huge tug of procreation. But friendship at first sight? This also Catches fiercely at the surprised heart So that the cheek blanches then blushes.
ROBERT GRAVES

Crowd Desire Discovery Fire Goal Heart Hide Life Rise Sight Street Want Won
The sap of Spring in the young wood a-stir Will celebrate with green the Mother, And every song-bird shout awhile for her; But we are gifted, even in November Rawest of seasons, with so huge a sense Of Her nakedly worn magnificence We forget cruelty and past betrayal, Heedless of where the next bright bolt may fall.
ROBERT GRAVES

Affection Betrayal Child Children Family Feeling God Husband Mother Motherhood Sacrifice Song Soul
If I were a girl, I’d despair. The supply of good women far exceeds that of the men who deserve them.
ROBERT GRAVES

Accept Becoming Girl Good Honor Life Mind Perfect Perfection Respect Woman Women
Patriotism, in the trenches, was too remote a sentiment, and at once rejected as fit only for civilians, or prisoners. A new arrival who talked patriotism would soon be told to cut it out.
ROBERT GRAVES

Civilian Cutting Fit Freedom Help Hope Inspire Patriotism Reject Story Trencher
About this business of being a gentleman: I paid so heavily for the fourteen years of my gentleman’s education that I feel entitled, now and then, to get some sort of return.
ROBERT GRAVES

Bold Gentleman Hard Work Leader Men Passionate Return Saint Success Trust Year

There’s a cool web of language winds us in, Retreat from too much joy or too much fear: We grow sea-green at last and coldly die In brininess and volubility.

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There’s a cool web of language winds us in, Retreat from too much joy or too much fear: We grow sea-green at last and coldly die In brininess and volubility.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

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