black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

T. S. Eliot

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us and we drown.
T. S. ELIOT

Deep Dream Fantasy Girl Human Sea Voice Wake Up
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
Men dislike being awakened from their death in life.
T. S. ELIOT

Death Deep Life Man
Most of the evil in this world is done by people with good intentions.
T. S. ELIOT

Evil Goodness Intention People World
Sometimes things become possible if we want them bad enough.
T. S. ELIOT

Bad Enough Possible
The visible reminder of Invisible Light.
T. S. ELIOT

God Light One Liner Prayer
The very existence of libraries affords the best evidence that we may yet have hope for the future of man
T. S. ELIOT

Best Evidence Existence Future Hope Library 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
No one can become really educated without having pursued some study in which he took no interest- for it is a part of education to learn to interest ourselves in subjects for which we have no aptitude.
T. S. ELIOT

Education Himself Interest Learning Ourselves Pursue
This is one moment, / But know that another / Shall pierce you with a sudden painful joy.
T. S. ELIOT

Joy Moments Oneself Pain
People to whom nothing has ever happened cannot understand the unimportance of events.
T. S. ELIOT

Importance People Understand
This is the way the world ends not with a bang but a whimper.
T. S. ELIOT

End Theory World
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
For you know only a heap of broken images
T. S. ELIOT

Break Photograph Yourself
Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal.
T. S. ELIOT

Growth Poet
What is hell? Hell is oneself. Hell is alone, the other figures in it Merely projections. There is nothing to escape from And nothing to escape to. One is always alone.
T. S. ELIOT

Alone Escape Hell Oneself Philosophy Spiritual

I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

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I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

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