Comments about T. S. Eliot

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dhrubghimire: “This is the way the world ends Not with a bang but a whimper.” T.S. Eliot

Moncadatzin: “April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain.” T. S. Eliot

FaberBooks: Who first gave T.S. Eliot the nickname of Possum?

FaberBooks: What was the first work by T.S. Eliot that Faber published?

TheThinkProj: Where things feel like they're ending or falling apart, often something is about to emerge, to start.... What we call the beginning is often the end And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from. -T.S. Eliot, “Little Gidding,” from Four Quartets

jpsolihull: the rude aristocracy of the time. The most famous troubadours included Guillaume d'Aquitaine; Jaufre Rudel, poet of the amor de lonh (distant love); and Arnaut Daniel, whom Dante meets in Purgatory and whose words appear in T. S. Eliot's The Waste Land. 3/3

davidnowell: We must be still and still moving Into another intensity For another union, a deeper communion. —T. S. Eliot

secondachilles: I wonder if they will cover when T. S. Eliot became an Anglican. Just for the bantz.

stv_smith: Between the thought and the action falls the shadow. ~ T. S. Eliot

LaurieAEakes: "April is the cruelest month," T. S. Eliot "The Wasteland"

aaoddi: One of my favorite poems and such an important message right now:

DS_Eliot: It’s this one. Didn’t think I’d ever have a new favorite picture of him, but here it is.

imrejele: We all know the story of the fiery destruction of the Library of Alexandria. But in reality it died a slower and more humiliating death: degraded and broken apart by anti-intellectual rulers. Sounds familiar? The words of T.S. Eliot jump to mind.

naiklagidotcom: “Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go.” — T.S Eliot

matthaig1: New Zealand's lockdown has resulted in one single death. They have already turned the curve and are considering easing restrictions as they roll out mass testing. This is what happens when you have a leader who doesn't contemplate herd immunity.

BelindaGreb: "...the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started & know the place for the first time. "-T S Eliot

CarbaughSj: April is the cruellest month. - T.S. Eliot I agree.

TomasJMurray: (T. S. Eliot, ‘Morning at the Window’)

skippress: Did you ever wonder where you got your favorite word for news these days? Thank T.S. Eliot for that bullshit.

dlongenecker1: Lockdown T.S.Eliot Book Club – 3

pgranfield: “April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.” - T.S. Eliot

Outerbanks_GV: Anxiety is the hand maiden of creativity. -T.S. Eliot

ZeeshanJaanam: Poetry may make us from time to time a little more aware of the deeper, unnamed feelings which form the substratum of our being, to which we rarely penetrate; for our lives are mostly a constant evasion of ourselves. T.S. Eliot

welfordwrites: T S Eliot, poet and playwright. Click the link!

Danbrad77778390: An old man's search for a pirates treasure results in the release of a deadly vampire, who searches for new victims in a small coastal town. You won't find any sparkely vampires here and it's very well written with witty style by Marc Eliot. Here's How Dear The Dawn. R: 1987.

Imani_Barbarin: It’s incredibly important that as you (especially as white disabled people) talk about the higher rate of death for black people, you understand the cultural dynamics surrounding self-identification as part of the disabled/chronically ill community. Many won’t, and you’ll

naiklagidotcom: "Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go." -- T.S. Eliot

2l3DnUXTnARw1OK: Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal. T. S. Eliot

alfragores: April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. (The Waste Land, T. S. Eliot) :: Coronavirus: An Unimaginable Toll

misandrywitch: i'm slowly working at writing a more comprehensive narrative backstory for eli & i'm finishing this scene & it feels seasonal for the evening. part of a longwinded conversation about t.s. eliot.

Poem of the day

 by Sara Teasdale

I said, “My youth is gone
Like a fire beaten out by the rain,
That will never sway and sing
Or play with the wind again.”

I said, “It is no great sorrow
That quenched my youth in me,
But only little sorrows

Read complete poem

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