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That was my way of putting it-not very satisfactory: A periphrastic study in a worn-out poetical fashion, Leaving one still with the intolerable wrestle With words and meanings.
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
Way
Worn
Putting
Leaving
Fashion
Poetical
Study
Wrestle
Words
Satisfactory
Stills
Intolerable
Still
Meanings
More quotes by T. S. Eliot
Most of the trouble in the world is caused by people wanting to be important.
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People to whom nothing has ever happened cannot understand the unimportance of events.
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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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The circle of our understanding is a very restricted area.
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And would it have been worth it, after all, Would it have been worth while, After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets, After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor - And this, and so much more? -
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Between the idea And the reality Between the motion And the act Falls the Shadow
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The difference between being an elder statesman And posing successfully as an elder statesman Is practically negligible.
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This is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper.
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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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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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The endless cycle of idea and action, / Endless invention, endless experiment, / Brings knowledge of motion, but not of stillness / Knowledge of speech, but not of silence / Knowledge of words, and ignorance of The Word.
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It is worth while dying, to find out what life is.
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The historical sense compels a man to write not merely with his own generation in his bones, but with a feeling that the whole of literature from Homer and within it the whole of the literature of his own country has a simultaneous existence and composes a simultaneous order.
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We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men Leaning together...
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You will find that you survive humiliation. And that's an experience of incalculable value.
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When forced to work within a strict framework, the imagination is taxed to its utmost and will produce its richest ideas. Given total freedom, the work is likely to sprawl.
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I take as metaphysical poetry that in which what is ordinarily apprehensible only by thought is brought within the grasp of feeling, or that in which what is ordinarily only felt is transformed into thought without ceasing to be feeling.
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I must tell you that I should really like to think there's something wrong with me- Because, if there isn't, then there's something wrong with the world itself-and that's much more frightening! That would be terrible. So I'd rather believe there is something wrong with me, that could be put right.
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So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.
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Our lives are mostly a constant evasion of ourselves, and of our visible, sensible world.
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