Rupert Brooke Quotes

I miss Brighton enormously, enormously. There is so much I miss, including rain. I miss the verdant countryside.

That's one of the things I miss most about Australia - the countryside.

I kind of like to look at the ranch on Google, reminds me of where I want to be sometimes.

I miss England. I miss the weather. I've spent moss of the last 25 years on tour. I'm ready to come home.

Oh, to be home again, home again, home again! Under the apple-boughs, down by the mill!

I really, really missed the Pennsylvania countryside and hills.

Far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife …

I wish I had never left England

I do miss England. Well, I miss the idea of England, I think. But I haven't been back for years. I probably just miss the past.

I miss a lot about England when I'm working away, even the slate grey skies.

I'm just a Connecticut country boy. The people I've known, the changes of season, the call of the blue jay - when I'm away, all of them haunt me.

I love the countryside, which is where I live and feel most comfortable, and hate being surrounded by herds of people.

When I'm at school in the city, I don't feel particularly worldly or wise. It's only when I come back home that I remember exactly why I left.

In Rome you long for the country. In the country you praise to the skies the distant town.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping...I hear it in the deep heart's core.

Peace. That's what salaam means. Peace unto you." The words brought forth an echo from Ender's memory. His mother's voice reading to him softly, when he was very young. ... The kiss, the word, the peace were with him still. I am only what I remember, and Alai is my friend in a memory so intense that they can't tear him out. Like Valentine, the strongest memory of all.

A man wants nothing so badly as a gooseberry farm.

You cannot know, should I discribe to you; the feelings of a parent . . . . Four years have already past away since you left your native land, and this rural Cottage-Humble indeed, when compared to the Palaces you have visited, and the pomp you have been witness to. But I dare say you have not been so inattentive an observer, as to suppose that Sweet peace, and contentment, cannot inhabit the lowly roof, and bless the tranquil inhabitants, equally guarded and protected, in person and property, in this happy Country, as those who reside in the most elegant and costly dwellings.

I never miss England.

I come to my solitary woodland walk as the homesick go home.

After a week, it's better. I miss her. I mourn her. But some peace has returned. She had been so unattainable - so young, so much a citizen of a different era - that it is hard to feel fully deprived.

Dustfinger closed his eyes and listened. He was home again.

The afternoon is bright, with spring in the air, a mild March afternoon, with the breath of April stirring, I am alone in the quiet patio looking for some old untried illusion - some shadow on the whiteness of the wall some memory asleep on the stone rim of the fountain, perhaps in the air the light swish of some trailing gown.

I was sad to leave Europe in 1890, after my student days in Germany... But then, once back in New York, I experienced an intense longing for Europe, for its vital tradition of music, theatre, art, craftsmanship... I felt bewildered and lonely. How was I to use myself?

I miss everyone. I can remember being young and feeling a thing and identifying it as homesickness, and then thinking well now that’s odd, isn’t it, because I was home, all the time. What on earth are we to make of that?