Rudyard Kipling

Rudyard
Kipling
1865
1936

English Novelist, Poet, Short-Story Writer, Artist, Teacher of Architectural Sculpture, Awarded Nobel Prize in Literature

Author Quotes

When the Hymalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride, He shouts to scare the monster, who will often turn aside. But the she-bear thus accosted, rends the peasant tooth and nail,For the female of the species is more deadly than the male. 

You perceive, do you not, that our national fairy tales reflect the inmost desires of the Briton and the Gaul? 

When young lips have drunk deep of the bitter waters of hate, suspicion and despair, all the love in the world will not wholly take away that knowledge. Though it may turn darkened eyes for a while to the light, and teach faith where no faith was.

Your new-caught, sullen peoples / Half devil and half child.

When your Daemon is in charge, do not try to think consciously. Drift, wait, and obey.

You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din!

What are the bugles blowin' for? said Files-on-Parade. To turn you out, to turn you out, the Colour-Sergeant said. They've taken of his buttons off an' cut his stripes away, An' they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'.

When you're left wounded on Afganistan's plains and the women come out to cut up what remains, Just roll to your rifle and blow out your brains, And go to your God like a soldier

Youth had been a habit of hers for so long, that she could not part with it.

What is the flag of England? Ye have but my breath to dare, Ye have but my waves to conquer. Go forth, for it is there.

When you've shouted `Rule Britannia', when you've sung `God save the Queen', / When you've finished killing Kruger with your mouth.

What should they know of England, who only England know?

Who are neither children nor gods, but men in a world of men!

What stands if Freedom fail? What dies of England live?

Who hath desired the Sea?—the sight of salt water unbounded—The heave and the halt and the hurl and the crash of the comber wind-hounded?

What you do when you don't have to, determines what you will do when you can no longer help it.

Whose plinths are laid at midnight and whose streets are packed at morn;

When earth's last picture is painted, and the tubes are twisted and dried, When the oldest colors have faded, and the youngest critic has died, We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it-lie down for an eon or two, Till the Master of All Good Workmen shall set us to work anew! And those that were good shall be happy: they shall sit in a golden chair; They shall splash at a ten-league canvas with brushes of comets' hair; They shall find real saints to draw from-Magdalene, Peter, and Paul; They shall work for an age at a sitting and never be tired at all! And only the Master shall praise us, and only the Master shall blame; And no one shall work for money, and no one shall work for fame; But each for the joy of working, and each, in his separate star Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the God of Things as They Are!

Winds of the World, give answer! They are whimpering to and fro—And what should they know of England who only England know?

When first under fire an' you're wishful to duck, Don't look nor take 'eed at the man that is struck, Be thankful you're livin', and trust to your luck And march to your front like a soldier. Front, front, front like a soldier... If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white, Remember it's ruin to run from a fight: So take open order, lie down, and sit tight, And wait for supports like a soldier. Wait, wait, wait like a soldier. When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains, And the women come out to cut up what remains, Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains An' go to your Gawd like a soldier. Go, go, go like a soldier, Go, go, go like a soldier, Go, go, go like a soldier, So-oldier of the Queen!

Ye thought? Ye are not paid to think.

When next he came to me he was drunk—royally drunk on many poets for the first time revealed to him. His pupils were dilated, his words tumbled over each other, and he wrapped himself in quotations—as a beggar would enfold himself in the purple of emperors.

You haf too much Ego in your Cosmos

When 'Omer smote 'is bloomin' lyre, / He'd 'eard men sing by land an' sea; / An' what he thought 'e might require, / 'E went an' took - the same as me!

You just don't know how to use the English language.

Author Picture
First Name
Rudyard
Last Name
Kipling
Birth Date
1865
Death Date
1936
Bio

English Novelist, Poet, Short-Story Writer, Artist, Teacher of Architectural Sculpture, Awarded Nobel Prize in Literature