I did a load of medicine cabinets a long time ago and I named them after Sex Pistols songs. I suppose I must be getting old if I'm naming work after Philip Larkin poems.— Damien Hirst
Unbelievable Larkin quotations
It's unthinkable not to love --you'd have a severe nervous breakdown.
Or you'd have to be Philip Larkin.
As anyone who has the slightest knowledge of my work knows, I have little in common with Larkin, who was tall, taciturn and thin-on-top, and unlike him I laugh, nay, sneer, in the face of death. I will concede one point: we are both lesbian poets.
Philip Larkin used to cheer himself up by looking in the mirror and saying the line from Rebecca, 'I am Mrs de Winter now!
Schweitzer in the Congo did not derive more moral credit than Larkin did for living in Hull.
Since the majority of me Rejects the majority of you, Debating ends forthwith, and we Divide.'' Philip Larkin
I read Carver. Julio Cortázar. Amis's essays. Baldwin. Lorrie Moore. Capote. Saramago. Larkin. Wodehouse. Anything, anything at all, that doesn't sound like me.
Philip Larkin has a tough honesty and sense of humor that I find irresistible, as a contemporary poet.
The best books of our times have included the three mature volumes of Philip Larkin. They're very short books of poems, and very carefully arranged.
I remember coming upon Philip Larkin in my 20s in the early '60s and when Sylvia Plath's "Ariel" came out it knocked me off my feet.
Speaking of [Philip] Larkin, in his poem about the First World War he wrote something like, "Never such innocence, before or since, that turned itself to past without a word".
This is the strange thing about existing in time.
As [Philip] Larkin puts it, "truly, though our element is time, we are not used to the strange perspectives open at each moment of our lives" - something like that.
Philip Larkin didn't write for several years before his life ended.
And when he was asked why he didn't write, he said the muse deserted him. And when I read that, it really had a profound effect upon me, sort of scared me. So that's why I think I have no right to assume that some thought is going to come... But I think, in my imagination, if it is it, there will probably be something else I'm interested in.
Right now Andy Larkin is pitching just like young Andy Larkin.
Deluded liberal that I am, I persist in thinking that those with a streak of sexual unorthodoxy ought to be more tolerant of their fellows than those who lead an entirely godly, righteous and sober life. Illogically, I tend to assume that if you ( Philip Larkin) dream of caning schoolgirls bottoms, it disqualifies you from dismissing half the nation as work-shy.
There's a curse on me as there's a curse on the Larkin name.
The curse comes back, again and again, to taunt me! Ronan! Kilty! Tomas! And now me! What are the Irish among men? Are we lepers? Are we a blight? Will there ever be an end to our tears?
Look at me, man, look at me and tell me I don't know what I'm about.
I'm Conor Larkin. I'm an Irishman and I've had enough.
Now that’s true poetic irony. I rush into battle to defend the fair name of Rose Larkin, and what does she do but fetch Robert to stop me.
Since it was there, Larkin got another bowl, spooned up stew for himself.
“He fights with us. We’re an army.” “An army? Talk about delusions of grandeur. What are you?” she asked Glenna. “Witch.” “So, we’ve got a witch, a sorcerer, a couple of refugees from Geall and a vampire. Some army.