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The work of creation is never without travail.
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
Travail
Creation
Without
Work
Never
More quotes by T. S. Eliot
Anxiety is the hand maiden of creativity.
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No poet, no artist of any art, has his complete meaning alone.
T. S. Eliot
As she laughed I was aware of becoming involved in her laughter and being part of it, until her teeth were only accidental stars with a talent for squad-drill.
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I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is JennyanydotsHer coat is one of the tabby kind,with tiger stripes and lepard spots.
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Philosophy: a purple bullfinch in a lilac tree.
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At the violet hour, when the eyes and back Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits Like a taxi throbbing waiting I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives.
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Humankind cannot bear very much reality.
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It is worth while dying, to find out what life is.
T. S. Eliot
And right action is freedom From past and future also.
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Webster was much possessed by death And saw the skull beneath the skin.
T. S. Eliot
I had seen birth and death but had thought they were different.
T. S. Eliot
It is impossible to design a system so perfect that no one needs to be good.
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Time past and time future allow but a little consciousness. To be conscious is not to be in time.
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It is self-evident that St. Louis affected me more deeply than any other environment has ever done. I feel that there is something in having passed one's childhood beside the big river, which is incommunicable to those people who have not. I consider myself fortunate to have been born here, rather than in Boston, or New York, or London.
T. S. Eliot
He is haunted by a demon, a demon against which he feels powerless, because in its first manifestation it has no face, no name, nothing and the words, the poem he makes, are a kind of exorcism of this demon.
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When a great poet has lived, certain things have been done once for all, and cannot be achieved again.
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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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In the end is my beginning.
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I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.
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Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion.
T. S. Eliot