black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

This love is silent.

T. S. Eliot

I am moved by fancies that are curled, around these images and cling, the notion of some infinitely gentle, infinitely suffering thing.
T. S. ELIOT

Myself Photograph Suffering
What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.
T. S. ELIOT

Beginning Deep End Philosophy Start
I can connect Nothing with nothing
T. S. ELIOT

Connection Myself One Liner
Humankind cannot bear very much reality.
T. S. ELIOT

Humanity Reality
Books. Cats. Life is good.
T. S. ELIOT

Book Goodness Life
Men dislike being awakened from their death in life.
T. S. ELIOT

Death Deep Life Man
Unreal friendship may turn to real But real friendship, once ended, cannot be mended
T. S. ELIOT

End Friendship Reality Repair
You are the music while the music lasts.
T. S. ELIOT

Last Music Yourself
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
We read many books, because we cannot know enough people.
T. S. ELIOT

Book Enough People Reading
Do I dare Disturb the universe?
T. S. ELIOT

Dare Myself World
Of lovers whose bodies smell of each other Who think the same thoughts without need of speech
T. S. ELIOT

Body Lover Need Talk Thinking True Love
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

End Ourselves Place Start Time Travel
Where does one go from a world of insanity? Somewhere on the other side of despair.
T. S. ELIOT

Sanity Suffering World
Success is relative. It is what we make of the mess we have made of things.
T. S. ELIOT

Mess Success
Except for the point, the still point, There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.
T. S. ELIOT

Dance Exception

This love is silent.

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This love is silent.

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