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I should have been a pair of ragged claws/ Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

T. S. Eliot

There’s no vocabulary For love within a family, love that’s lived in But not looked at, love within the light of which All else is seen, the love within which All other love finds speech. This love is silent.
T. S. ELIOT

Deep Family Light Love See Silence Talk
Humankind cannot bear very much reality.
T. S. ELIOT

Humanity Reality
Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood.
T. S. ELIOT

Communication Poetry Understand
Except for the point, the still point, There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.
T. S. ELIOT

Dance Exception
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
To do the useful thing, to say the courageous thing, to contemplate the beautiful thing: that is enough for one man’s life.
T. S. ELIOT

Beautiful Courage Enough Life Man
We don’t actually fear death, we fear that no one will notice our absence, that we will disappear without a trace.
T. S. ELIOT

Absence Death Fade Fear Ourselves
The purpose of literature is to turn blood into ink.
T. S. ELIOT

Ink Literature Poet Purpose
Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal.
T. S. ELIOT

Growth Poet
Teach us to care and not to care
T. S. ELIOT

Care One Liner Teaching
The last act is the greatest treason. To do the right deed for the wrong reason.
T. S. ELIOT

Act Greatness Reason Right Wrong
So I find words I never thought to speak In streets I never thought I should revisit When I left my body on a distant shore.
T. S. ELIOT

Body Myself Talk Thinking Word
We read many books, because we cannot know enough people.
T. S. ELIOT

Book Enough People Reading
This is one moment, / But know that another / Shall pierce you with a sudden painful joy.
T. S. ELIOT

Joy Moments Oneself Pain
Success is relative. It is what we make of the mess we have made of things.
T. S. ELIOT

Mess Success
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

I should have been a pair of ragged claws/ Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

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I should have been a pair of ragged claws/ Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

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