Quotes
Quotes to inspire and reflect
A man is a god in ruins. When men are innocent, life shall be longer, and shall pass into the immortal, as gently as we awake from dreams.
’Tis a queer life, and the only humor proper to it seems quiet astonishment. Others laugh, weep, sell, or proselyte. I admire.
La Terre est Bleue Comme une Orange .
While one can do nothing about choosing one’s relatives, one can, as artist, choose one’s “ancestors.”
America is woven of many strands; I would recognize them and let it so remain. . . . Our fate is to become one, and yet many—This is not prophecy, but description.
Who knows but that, on the lower frequencies,
[ On The Waste Land:] Various critics have done me the honor to interpret the poem in terms of criticism of the contemporary world, have considered it, indeed, as an important bit of social criticism. To me it was only the relief of a personal and wholly insignificant grouse against life; it is just a piece of rhythmical grumbling.
I am an invisible man. . . . I am a man of substance, of flesh and bone, fiber and liquids—and I might even be said to possess a mind. I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me.
Consumed by either fire or fire.
A condition of complete simplicity
Who then devised the torment? Love.
We only live, only suspire
Our concern was speech, and speech impelled us
First, the cold friction of expiring sense
Who are only undefeated
In the uncertain hour before the morning
Music heard so deeply
Not fare well,
We must be still and still moving
Old men ought to be explorers.
Home is where one starts from. As we grow older
For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.
In spite of that, we call this Friday good.
And so each venture
That was a way of putting it—not very satisfactory:
The whole earth is our hospital
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
How unpleasant to meet Mr. Eliot!
Even among these rocks,
And the lost heart stiffens and rejoices
Wavering between the profit and the loss
Redeem
Terminate torment
Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
Why should the aged eagle stretch its wings?
And pray to God to have mercy upon us
The great poet, in writing himself, writes his time.
The general point of view may be described as classicist in literature, royalist in politics, and Anglo-Catholic in religion.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
Were we led all that way for
[The critic must] compose his differences with as many of his fellows as possible in the common pursuit of true judgement.
Between the idea
Dayadhvam : I have heard the key
The awful daring of a moment’s surrender
I Tiresias have foresuffered all
“What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
Unreal City,
“My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.