I am moved by fancies that are curled, around these images and cling, the notion of some infinitely gentle, infinitely suffering thing.
T. S. ELIOTThere is no feeling, except the extremes of fear and grief, that does not find relief in music.
More T. S. Eliot Quotes
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Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea.
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 -
I learn a great deal by merely observing you, and letting you talk as long as you please, and taking note of what you do not say.
T. S. ELIOT -
Love is most nearly itself When here and now cease to matter.
T. S. ELIOT -
Of lovers whose bodies smell of each other Who think the same thoughts without need of speech
T. S. ELIOT -
For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.
T. S. ELIOT -
If you haven’t the strength to impose your own terms upon life, then you must accept the terms it offers you.
T. S. ELIOT -
The very existence of libraries affords the best evidence that we may yet have hope for the future of man
T. S. ELIOT -
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.
T. S. ELIOT -
Books. Cats. Life is good.
T. S. ELIOT -
For I have known them all already, known them all—Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.
T. S. ELIOT -
We do not pass through the same door twice Or return to the door through which we did not pass.
T. S. ELIOT -
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 -
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 -
Except for the point, the still point, There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.
T. S. ELIOT