Rudyard Kipling Quotes
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There is sorrow enough in the natural way From men and woman to fill our day; But when we are certain of sorrow in store, Why do we always arrange for more? Brothers & Sisters, I bid you beware Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
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Our loves are not given, but only lent, At compound interest of cent per cent.
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All we have of freedom All we use or know This our fathers bought for us Long and long ago.
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The Guns, Thank God, The Guns.
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At twenty the things for which one does not care a damn should, properly, be many.
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God help us for we knew the worst too young.
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The wild hawk to the wind-swept sky The deer to the wholesome wold; And the heart of a man to the heart of a maid, As it was in the days of old.
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Not getting what you want either means you don't want it enough, or you have been dealing too long with the price you have to pay.
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After violent emotion most people and all boys demand food.
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What stands if Freedom fail? What dies of England live?
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A black shadow dropped down into the circle. It was Bagheera the Black Panther, inky black all over, but with the panther markings showing up in certain lights like the pattern of watered silk. Everybody knew Bagheera, and nobody cared to cross his path, for he was as cunning as Tabaqui, as bold as the wild buffalo, and as reckless as the wounded elephant. But he had a voice as soft as wild honey dripping from a tree, and a skin softer than down.
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And some can pot begonias and some can bud a rose, And some are hardly fit to trust with anything that grows.
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Heaven grant us patience with a man in love.
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Once there was The People - Terror gave it birth.
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All sensible men are of the same religion, but no sensible man ever tells.
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He who faces no calamity gains no courage.
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If a man brings a good mind to what he reads he may become, as it were, the spiritual descendant to some extent of great men, and this link, this spiritual hereditary tie, may help to just kick the beam in the right direction at a vital crisis; or may keep him from drifting through the long slack times when, so to speak, we are only fielding and no balls are coming our way.
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They shut the road through the woods Seventy years ago. Weather and rain have undone it again, And now you would never know There was once a road through the woods.
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A thin grey fog hung over the city, and the streets were very cold; for summer was in England.
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I never made a mistake in my life; at least, never one that I couldn't explain away afterwards.
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As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn, The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!
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There's no jealousy in the grave.
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If I were hanged on the highest hill, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! I know whose love would follow me still, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! If I were drowned in the deepest sea, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! I know whose tears would come down to me, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! If I were damned of body and soul, I know whose prayers would make me whole, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!
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The white moth to the closing vine, The bee to the open clover, And the Gypsy blood to the Gypsy blood Ever the wide world over.