For most of us, there is only the unattended Moment, the moment in and out of time, The distraction fit, lost in a shaft of sunlight, The wild thyme unseen, or the winter lightning Or the waterfall, or music heard so deeply That it is not heard at all, but you are the music While… Continue reading T. S. Eliot
And it is the consciousness of our own humanity which makes us forgive others and become tender and tolerant toward them. In this moment, before I fall asleep, I remember that I must die, and be as if I had not been. In the living darkness before death we cling together and are kind to… Continue reading Siegfried Sassoon
But beauty is not the only thing that makes a woman attractive; indeed, great beauty is often somewhat chilling: you admire, but are not moved. ― W. Somerset Maugham, Ten Novels and Their Authors. (Vintage; New Ed edition 2001) Originally published 1948.
Not known, because not looked for But heard, half-heard, in the stillness Between two waves of the sea. —T. S. Eliot, from “Little Gidding,” Four Quartets. (Faber & Faber 1959) Originally published 1943.
Your head has dissolved into thin air and I can see the rhododendrons through your stomach. It’s not that you are dead or anything dramatic like that, it is simply that you are fading away and I can’t even remember your name. — Leonora Carrington, The Hearing Trumpet. (Exact Change; 1ST edition, February 2, 2004)… Continue reading Leonora Carrington
I love all things that pass: their briefness is Music that fades on transient silences. Winds, birds, and glittering leaves that flare and fall— They fling delight across the world; they call To rhythmic-flashing limbs that rove and race… A moment in the dawn for Youth’s lit face; A moment’s passion, closing on the cry—… Continue reading Siegfried Sassoon
Can we only love Something created by our own imagination? Are we all in fact unloving and unlovable? Then one is alone, and if one is alone Then lover and beloved are equally unreal, And the dreamer is no more real than his dreams. —T. S. Eliot, from “The Cocktail Party,” Complete Poems and… Continue reading T. S. Eliot