Rudyard Kipling Quotes

These fragments I have shored against my ruins

Entropy increases. Things fall apart.

And as things fell apart, nobody paid much attention

I'm falling into disrepair

Things seem to fall apart inevitably.

I have always been interested in the concept of ruin.

I am crumbling in sync with old Hackney.

The worst wheel of the cart makes the most noise.

When a successful man goes to pieces, his frustration engulfs the entire surroundings.

If a building has been condemned or it's left to ruin, I get so upset. I feel something really deeply about it. I don't like to see anything neglected.

He says-him as was here just now-'When Tom shut up the house, mate, to go to rack, the beds was left, all made, like as if somebody was a-going to sleep in every bed. And if you was to walk through the bedrooms now, you'd see the ragged mouldy bedclothes a heaving and a heaving like seas. And a heaving and a heaving with what?' he says. 'Why, with the rats under 'em.'

The whole town looks as if it had been left out in the rain too long and by mistake.

Things fall apart; the center cannot hold.

DEAL is a most villainous place. It is full of filthy-looking people.Great desolationof abomination has beengoing on here.

Eros has degenerated; he began by introducing order and harmony, and now he brings back chaos.

And new philosophy calls all in doubt, The element of fire is quite put out; The sun is lost, and the earth, and no man's wit Can well direct him where to look for it. And freely men confess that this world's spent, When in the planets, and the firmament They seek so many new; then see that this Is crumbled out again to his atomies. 'Tis all in pieces, all coherence gone; All just supply, and all relation: Prince, subject, Father, Son, are things forgot.

Neglect starts out as an infection then becomes a disease.

Ain't no use jiving, ain't no use joking, everything is broken.

Dead fields under a November sky, scattered rose petals brown and turning up at the edges, empty pools scummed with algae, rot, decomposition, dust.

I would like to explode, flow, crumble into dust, and my disintegration would be my masterpiece.

The pieces all fit together. Yet everything was falling apart.

When the forces that hold it together go away, the body must fall.

Increasingly, the world around us looks as if we hated it.

Everything is still falling apart.

Still, the vivid green of the grass-where the grass is actually managing to assert itself through the dirt-seems out of place. This seems like a place where the sun should never shine: a place on the edge, at the limit, a place completely removed from time and happiness and life.