Rudyard Kipling
Rudyard Kipling
Joseph Rudyard Kipling; 30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936) was an English journalist, short-story writer, poet, and novelist...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth30 December 1865
CityMumbai, India
son men white-man
Take up the White Man's burden -- send forth the best ye breed -- go, bind your sons to exile to serve your captives need.
running motto mongoose
The motto of all the mongoose family is, "Run and find out," and Rikki-tikki was a true mongoose.
lovely world care
The world is very lovely, and it's very horrible--and it doesn't care about your life or mine or anything else.
fire water return
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn, The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!
thinking long tree
They will come back, come back again, As long as the red earth rolls. He never wasted a leaf or a tree. Do you think he would squander souls?
eye men hands
These are the four that are never content: that have never been filled since the dew began- Jacala's mouth, and the glut of the kite, and the hands of the ape, and the eyes of Man.
lord folly accounts
Good Lord! who can account for the fathomless folly of the public?
How can you do anything until you have seen everything,or as much as you can?
kissing men may
They are fools who kiss and tell'-- Wisely has the poet sung. Man may hold all sorts of posts If he'll only hold his tongue.
dog lying pups
Buy a pup and your money will buy Love unflinching that cannot lie.
boys men sorrow
Yet there be certain times in a young man’s life, when, through great sorrow or sin, all the boy in him is burnt and seared away so that he passes at one step to the more sorrowful state of manhood
agreement again-and-again paid
And that is called paying the Dane-geld; but we've proved it again and again, that if once you have paid him the Dane-geld you never get rid of the Dane.
art rude joy
And the first rude sketch that the world had seen was joy to his mighty heart, till the Devil whispered behind the leaves 'It's pretty, but is it Art?'
mothers-day mom motherhood
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!