There is no feeling, except the extremes of fear and grief, that does not find relief in music.
T. S. ELIOTUnreal friendship may turn to real But real friendship, once ended, cannot be mended
More T. S. Eliot Quotes
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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 -
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 -
Distracted from distraction by distraction
T. S. ELIOT -
Some editors are failed writers, but so are most writers.
T. S. ELIOT -
Unreal friendship may turn to real But real friendship, once ended, cannot be mended
T. S. ELIOT -
Except for the point, the still point, There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.
T. S. ELIOT -
Every experience is a paradox in that it means to be absolute, and yet is relative; in that it somehow always goes beyond itself and yet never escapes itself.
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 -
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 -
In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
T. S. ELIOT -
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 -
Do I dare Disturb the universe?
T. S. ELIOT -
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me.
T. S. ELIOT -
We had the experience but missed the meaning. And approach to the meaning restores the experience in a different form.
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






