black
grey
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Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal.

T. S. Eliot

Where is the Life we have lost in living? Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge? Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?
T. S. ELIOT

Knowledge Life Live Lost Wisdom
Whatever you think, be sure it is what you think; whatever you want, be sure that is what you want; whatever you feel, be sure that is what you feel.
T. S. ELIOT

Be Yourself Feeling Self Love Thinking
Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood.
T. S. ELIOT

Communication Poetry Understand
For last year’s words belong to last year’s language and next year’s words await another voice.
T. S. ELIOT

Change Language Voice Word
It will do you no harm to find yourself ridiculous. Resign yourself to be the fool you are. We must always take risks. That is our destiny.
T. S. ELIOT

Destiny Fools Harm Ourselves Risk Yourself
Sometimes things become possible if we want them bad enough.
T. S. ELIOT

Bad Enough Possible
For you know only a heap of broken images
T. S. ELIOT

Break Photograph Yourself
An election is coming. Universal peace is declared and the foxes have a sincere interest in prolonging the lives of the poultry.
T. S. ELIOT

Election Fake Live Peace Politics
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 us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.
T. S. ELIOT

Business Ourselves
The last act is the greatest treason. To do the right deed for the wrong reason.
T. S. ELIOT

Act Greatness Reason Right Wrong
I have measured out my life in coffee spoons.
T. S. ELIOT

Life Myself
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
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
Humankind cannot bear very much reality.
T. S. ELIOT

Humanity Reality
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

Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal.

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Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal.

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