19 Quotes By Rudyard Kipling


He travels the fastest who travels alone.
Rudyard Kipling on alone

Down to Gehenna, or up to the Throne, He travels the fastest who travels alone.
Rudyard Kipling on alone

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?'
Rudyard Kipling on art

It's clever, but is it Art?
Rudyard Kipling on art

San Francisco is a mad city - inhabited for the most part by perfectly insane people whose women are of a remarkable beauty.
Rudyard Kipling on beauty

I always prefer to believe the best of everybody, it saves so much trouble.
Rudyard Kipling on best

All the people like us are we, and everyone else is They.
Rudyard Kipling on equality

We have forty million reasons for failure, but not a single excuse.
Rudyard Kipling on failure

Gardens are not made by singing 'Oh, how beautiful,' and sitting in the shade.
Rudyard Kipling on gardening

God could not be everywhere, and therefore he made mothers.
Rudyard Kipling on god

If history were taught in the form of stories, it would never be forgotten.
Rudyard Kipling on history

Borrow trouble for yourself, if that's your nature, but don't lend it to your neighbours.
Rudyard Kipling on nature

Heaven grant us patience with a man in love.
Rudyard Kipling on patience

He travels the fastest who travels alone.
Rudyard Kipling on travel

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 and go to your gawd like a soldier.
Rudyard Kipling on women

San Francisco is a mad city - inhabited for the most part by perfectly insane people whose women are of a remarkable beauty.
Rudyard Kipling on women

God could not be everywhere, and therefore he made mothers.
Rudyard Kipling on mothersday

The heart of a man to the heart of a maid - Light of my tents, be fleet - Morning awaits at the end of the world, And the world is all at our feet.
Rudyard Kipling on heart

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!
Rudyard Kipling on mother

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