I am moved by fancies that are curled, around these images and cling, the notion of some infinitely gentle, infinitely suffering thing.
T. S. ELIOTI am moved by fancies that are curled, around these images and cling, the notion of some infinitely gentle, infinitely suffering thing.
T. S. ELIOTWe do not pass through the same door twice Or return to the door through which we did not pass.
T. S. ELIOTWe read many books, because we cannot know enough people.
T. S. ELIOTTo do the useful thing, to say the courageous thing, to contemplate the beautiful thing: that is enough for one man’s life.
T. S. ELIOTApril is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.
T. S. ELIOTHumor is also a way of saying something serious.
T. S. ELIOTThe purpose of literature is to turn blood into ink.
T. S. ELIOTNo 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. ELIOTIn a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
T. S. ELIOTThere’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. ELIOTWhat 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. ELIOTWe 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. ELIOTI read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.
T. S. ELIOTI have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, and I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, and in short, I was afraid.
T. S. ELIOTExcept for the point, the still point, There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.
T. S. ELIOTI should have been a pair of ragged claws/ Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
T. S. ELIOT