Quotes from T.S. Eliot

Family affection Was a kind of formal obligation, a duty Only noticed by its neglect.

Because I do not hope to know again The infirm glory of the positive hour Because I do not think Because I know I shall not know The one veritable transitory power

The things I thought were real are shadows, and the real Are what I thought were private shadows.

Daffodil bulbs instead of balls Stared from the sockets of the eyes! He knew that thought clings round dead limbs Tightening its lusts and luxuries.

I could see nothing behind that child's eye. 40 I have seen eyes in the street Trying to peer through lighted shutters, And a crab one afternoon in a pool, An old crab with barnacles on his back, Gripped the end of a stick which I held him.

Here is no water but only rock Rock and no water and the sandy road

Of the past you can only see what is past, Not what is always present. That is what matters.

Because the particular has no language. One thinks to escape

I see nothing quite conclusive in the art of temporal government, But violence, duplicity and frequent malversation.

What you've been living on is an image of Celia Which you made for yourself, to meet your own needs.

Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch

No poet, no artist of any art, has his complete meaning alone.

Culture is not enough, even though nothing is enough without culture.

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;

By this grace dissolved in place What is this face, less clear and clearer The pulse in the arm, less strong and stronger— Given or lent? more distant than stars and nearer than the eye Whispers and small laughter between leaves and hurrying feet Under sleep, where all the waters meet. (from Marina)

I can show you fear in a handful of dust

I thought that if I died To you, I who had only been a ghost to you, You might be able to find the road back To a time when you were real -

Heretic ... is a person who seizes upon a truth and pushes it to the point at which it becomes a falsehood.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me. I have seen them riding seaward on the waves Combing the white hair of the waves blown back When the wind blows the water white and black. 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.

Whatever you have learned, Harry, you must remember That there is always more: we cannot rest in being The impatient spectators of malice or stupidity. We must try to penetrate the other private worlds Of make-believe and fear. To rest in our own suffering Is evasion of suffering. We must learn to suffer more.

U- I ask you to forget nothing. To try to forget is to try to conceal. E- There are certainly things I should like to forget. U- And persons also. But you must not forget them. You must face them all, but meet them as strangers. E- Then I myself must also be a stranger. U- And to yourself as well...

They don't understand what it is to be awake, To be living on several planes at once Though one cannot speak with several voices at once.

Sunday: this satisfied procession Of definite Sunday faces; Bonnets, silk hats, and conscious graces In repetition that displaces Your mental self-possession By this unwarranted digression. Evening, lights, and tea! Children and cats in the alley; Dejection unable to rally Against this dull conspiracy. And Life, a little bald and gray, Languid, fastidious, and bland, Waits, hat and gloves in hand, Punctilious of tie and suit (Somewhat impatient of delay) On the doorstep of the Absolute.

Well here again that don't apply But I've gotta use words when I talk to you.