Rupert Brooke Quotes

Unfading moths, immortal flies, And the worm that never dies. And in that heaven of all their wish, There shall be no more land, say fish.

But somewhere, beyond Space and Time Is wetter water, slimier slime!

Fish say, they have their stream and pond; But is there anything beyond?

Fish (fly-replete, in depth of June, Dawdling away their wat’ry noon).

Stands the Church clock at ten to three? And is there honey still for tea?

They love the Good; they worship Truth; They laugh uproariously in youth; (And when they get to feeling old, They up and shoot themselves, I’m told).