T. S. Eliot Quotes

Hell is a place where nothing connects with nothing.

April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow.

For last year's words belong to last year's language
And next year's words await another voice.
And to make an end is to make a beginning.

Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes.

Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My words echo
Thus, in your mind.

You are the music
While the music lasts.

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

If you came this way,
Taking any route, starting from anywhere,
At any time or at any season,
It would always be the same: you would have to put off
Sense and notion. You are not here to verify,
Instruct yourself, or inform curiosity
Or carry report. You are here to kneel
Where prayer has been valid.

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.

I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.

Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood.

I was too slow a mover to be a boxer. It was much easier to be a poet.

O you who turn the wheel and look to windward, Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.

Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

In my end is my beginning.

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