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We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time.

T. S. Eliot

The visible reminder of Invisible Light.
T. S. ELIOT

God Light One Liner Prayer
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.
T. S. ELIOT

Myself Night Reading
These fragments I have shored against my ruins
T. S. ELIOT

Myself Pieces Ruin
There is one who remembers the way to your door: Life you may evade, but Death you shall not.
T. S. ELIOT

Death Life Oneself Remember Yourself
Anxiety is the handmaiden of creativity
T. S. ELIOT

Creation Mental
Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take, towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.
T. S. ELIOT

Garden Memories Rose
There is no feeling, except the extremes of fear and grief, that does not find relief in music.
T. S. ELIOT

Fear Feeling Grief Music
Television is a medium of entertainment which permits millions of people to listen to the same joke at the same time, and yet remain lonesome.
T. S. ELIOT

Joke Listen Lonely People
Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge? Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?
T. S. ELIOT

Deep Knowledge Lost Wisdom
We had the experience but missed the meaning. And approach to the meaning restores the experience in a different form.
T. S. ELIOT

Deep Different Experience Missing
Every experience is a paradox in that it means to be absolute, and yet is relative; in that it somehow always goes beyond itself and yet never escapes itself.
T. S. ELIOT

Beyond Escape Experience
We do not pass through the same door twice Or return to the door through which we did not pass.
T. S. ELIOT

Philosophy Place Travel
Teach us to care and not to care
T. S. ELIOT

Care One Liner Teaching
Where does one go from a world of insanity? Somewhere on the other side of despair.
T. S. ELIOT

Sanity Suffering World
April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.
T. S. ELIOT

Death Desire Flower Memories Rain Season Spring
The purpose of literature is to turn blood into ink.
T. S. ELIOT

Ink Literature Poet Purpose

We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time.

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We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time.

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Popular Authors

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