Topic - T. S. Eliot

T. S. Eliot

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x T. S. Eliot

Thomas Stearns Eliot, OM (26 September 1888–4 January 1965), was a poet, playwright, and literary critic. He received the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1948. Among his most famous writings are The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, The Waste Land, "The...

x For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.

From T. S. Eliot's poem, East Coker, part of the Four Quartets.

x Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.

x Half of the harm that is done in this world is due to ...

Half of the harm that is done in this world is due to people who want to feel important. They don't mean to do harm. But the harm does not interest them.

x It is obvious that we can no more explain a passion to a person who has never experienced it than we can explain light to the blind.

x Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion…

Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from...

x This is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper.

x Business today consists in persuading crowds.

x I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.

x It's not wise to violate rules until you know how to observe them.

x Success is relative. It is what we can make of the mess we have made of things.

x We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.

x Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge? Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?

x Each venture is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate with shabby equipment always deteriorating in the general mess of imprecision of feeling.

x We are not here to triumph by fighting, by strata gem, or by resistance, not to fight with beasts as men. We have fought the beast and have conquered. We have only to conquer now, by suffering. This is the easier victory.

x We do not quite say that the new is more valuable because it fits in; but its fitting in is a test of its value -- a test, it is true, which can only be slowly and cautiously applied, for we are none of us infallible judges of conformity.

x Liberty is a different kind of pain from prison.

x We must believe that emotion recollected in tranquillity is an inexact formula. For it is neither emotion, nor recollection, nor without distortion of meaning, tranquillity. It is a concentration, and a new thing resulting from the concentration of a very great number of experiences which to the practical and active person would not seem to be experiences at all; it is a concentration which does not happen consciously or of deliberation. These experiences are not recollected and they finally unite in an atmosphere which is tranquil only in that it is a passive attending upon the event.

x It cannot be inherited, and if you want it you must obtain it by great labor.

x Art never improves, but the material of art is never quite the same.

x The awful daring of a moment's surrender which an age of prudence can never retract.

x If you haven't the strength to impose your own terms upon life, you must accept the terms it offers you.

x What we know of other people's only our memory of the moments during which we knew them.

x Moving between the legs of tables and of chairs, rising or falling, grasping at kisses and toys, advancing boldly, sudden to take alarm, retreating to the corner of arm and knee, eager to be reassured, taking pleasure in the fragrant brilliance of the Christmas tree.

x For last year's words belong to last year's language and next year's words await another voice.

x Half of the harm that is done in this world is due to people who want to feel important. They don't mean to do harm. But the harm does not interest them.

x When a poet's mind is perfectly equipped for its work, it is constantly amalgamating disparate experiences.

x In my beginning is my end.

x I suppose some editors are failed writers; but so are most writers.

x All cases are unique and very similar to others.

x Time past and time future what might have been and what has been point to one end, which is always present.

x Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge? Where is the knowledge we have lost in information.

x So far as we are human, what we do must be either evil or good: so far as we do evil or good, we are human: and it is better, in a paradoxical way, to do evil than to do nothing: at least we exist.

x We might remind ourselves that criticism is as inevitable as breathing, and that we should be none the worse for articulating what passes in our minds when we read a book and feel an emotion about it, for criticizing our own minds in their work of criticism.

x April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.

x Our emotions are only incidents in the effort to keep day and night together.

x There are flood and drought over the eyes and in the mouth, dead water and dead sand contending for the upper hand. The parched eviscerate soil gapes at the vanity of toil, laughs without mirth. This is the death of the earth.

x In a minute there is time for decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

x The dream crossed twilight between birth and dying.

x War is not a life: it is a situation, one which may neither be ignored nor accepted.

x I don't believe one grows older. I think that what happens early on in life is that at a certain age one stands still and stagnates.

x Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood.

x There is no method but to be very intelligent.

x People exercise an unconscious selection in being influenced.

x Footfalls echo in the memory down the passage which we did not take towards the door we never opened into the rose-garden.

x Only by acceptance of the past, can you alter it.

x I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

x Where does one go from a world of insanity? Somewhere on the other side of despair.

x You are the music while the music lasts.

x Birth, copulation and death. That's all the facts when you come to the brass tacks.

x The last temptation is the greatest treason: To do the right deed for the wrong reason.

x Hell is oneself, hell is alone, the other figures in it merely projections. There is nothing to escape from and nothing to escape to. One is always alone.

x A play should give you something to think about. When I see a play and understand it the first time, then I know it can't be much good.

x The years between fifty and seventy are the hardest. You are always being asked to do things, and yet you are not decrepit enough to turn them down.

x A tradition without intelligence is not worth having.

x It is a medium of entertainment which permits millions of people to listen to the same joke at the same time, and yet remain lonesome.

x We shall not cease from exploration and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started... and know the place for the first time.

x In the room the women come and go talking of Michelangelo.

x Friendship should be more than biting time can sever.

x An editor should tell the author his writing is better than it is. Not a lot better, a little better.

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