T. S. Eliot
- 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.
(topic: age)
- There's no vocabulary
For love within a family, love that's lived in
But not looked at, love within the light of which
All else is seen, the love within which
All other love finds speech.
This love is silent.
(topic: family)
- In the small circle of pain within the skull
You still shall tramp and tread one endless round
Of thought, to justify your action to yourselves,
Weaving a fiction which unravels as you weave,
Pacing forever in the hell of make-believe
Which never is belief: this is your fate on earth
And we must think no further of you.
(topic: guilt)
- Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden.
(topic: regret)
- It's strange that words are so inadequate.
Yet, like the asthmatic struggling for breath,
So the lover must struggle for words.
(topic: words)
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