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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

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T. S. Eliot
Age: 76 †
Born: 1888
Born: September 26
Died: 1965
Died: January 4
Critic
Essayist
Journalist
Literary Critic
Lyricist
Playwright
Poet
Screenwriter
Short Story Writer
Social Critic
St. Louis
Missouri
Thomas Stearns Eliot
Eliot
T S Eliot
Thomas Eliot
T.S. Eliot
Living
Lost
Life
Losing
Information
Wisdom
Knowledge

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You will find that you survive humiliation. And that's an experience of incalculable value.
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Everyone's alone - or so it seems to me. They make noises, and think they are talking to each other They make faces, and think they understand each other. And I'm sure they don't. Is that a delusion?
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Not less of love, but expanding Of love beyond desire, and so liberation From the Future as well as the past.
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Between the idea And the reality Between the motion And the act Falls the Shadow
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The definition of hell is a place where nothing connects with nothing.
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That is not it at all, That is not what I meant, at all.
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You have to risk going too far to discover just how far you can really go.
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The nightingales are singing near The Convent of the Sacred Heart, And sang within the bloody wood When Agamemnon cried aloud, And let their liquid siftings fall To stain the stiff dishonored shroud.
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So first, your memory I'll jog, And say: A CAT IS NOT A DOG
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It is not necessarily those lands which are the most fertile or most favored in climate that seem to me the happiest, but those in which a long struggle of adaptation between man and his environment has brought out the best qualities of both.
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All cases are unique and very similar to others.
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And they write innumerable books being too vain and distracted for silence: seeking every one after his own elevation, and dodging his emptiness.
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Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood.
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A condition of complete simplicity (Costing not less than everything)
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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.
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