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The hippopotamus's day Is passed in sleep at night he hunts God works in a mysterious way- The Church can sleep and feed at once.

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
Feed
Passed
Mysterious
Works
Sleep
Church
Night
Hippopotamus
Way
Hunts

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I hate university towns and university people, who are the same everywhere, with pregnant wives, sprawling children, many books and hideous pictures on the walls ... Oxford is very pretty, but I don't like to be dead.
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This is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper.
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Our difficulties of the moment must always be dealt with somehow, but our permanent difficulties are difficulties of every moment.
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Time present and time past / are both perhaps present in time future.
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The majority of poems one outgrows and outlives, as one outgrows and outlives the majority of human passions.
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I am glad you have a Cat, but I do not believe it is So remarkable a cat as My Cat. My Cat is a Lilliecat Hubvously. What a lilliecat it is. There never was such a Lilliecat. Its Name is JELLYORUM and its one Idea is to be Usefull!!
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Finding a way to live the simple life is one of life's supreme complications.
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You gave me hyacinths first a year ago They called me the hyacinth girl.' —Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden, Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, Looking into the heart of light, the silence. Od' und leer das Meer.
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Now that the lilacs are in bloom She has a bowl of lilacs in her room
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The old should be explorers, be curious, risk transgression, explore oldness itself.
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Ash on an old man's sleeve / Is all the ash the burnt roses leave, / Dust in the air suspended / Marks the place where a story ended.
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Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood.
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We shall not cease from exploring, And the end of our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time.
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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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To country people Cows are mild, And flee from any stick they throw But I’m a timid town bred child, And all the cattle seem to know.
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Gin and drugs, dear lady, gin and drugs.
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What a poem means is as much what it means to others as what it means to the author and indeed, in the course of time a poet may become merely reader in respect to his own works, forgetting his original meaning.
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not fare well, but fare forward
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The only hope, or else despair Lies in the choice of pyre or pyre - To be redeemed from fire by fire.
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Shape without form, shade without color, Paralyzed force, gesture without motion Those who have crossed With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom Remember us-if at all-not as lost Violent souls, but only As the hollow men The stuffed men.
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