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T.S. Eliot

If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spent If the unheard, unspoken Word is unspoken, unheard; Still is the unspoken word, the Word unheard, The Word without a word, the Word within The world and for the world; And the light shone in darkness and Against the Word the unstilled world… Continue reading T.S. Eliot

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American Culture · American Literature · British Culture · British Literature · Classic · Collection · Excerpt · Fragment · Imagism · Modernism · Nobel Prize in Literature (1948) · Passage · Poetry

T.S. Eliot

In the uncertain hour before the morning Near the ending of interminable night At the recurrent end of the unending After the dark dove with flickering tongue Had passed below the horizon of his homing While the dead leaves still rattled on like tin — T.S. Eliot, from “Little Gidding,” Four Quartets (Harcourt, 1943)

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American Culture · American Literature · British Culture · British Literature · Classic · Collection · Excerpt · Imagism · Modernism · Nobel Prize in Literature (1948) · Passage · Poetry

T.S. Eliot

“Who is the third who walks always beside you? When I count, there are only you and I together But when I look ahead up the white road There is always another one walking beside you Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded I do not know whether a man or a woman —But who… Continue reading T.S. Eliot

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T.S. Eliot

And every moment is a new and shocking Valuation of all we have been. We are only undeceived Of that which, deceiving, could no longer harm. — T.S. Eliot, from “East Coker” of the “Four Quartets,” The Complete Poems & Plays of T.S.Eliot (Faber & Faber Poetry, 2004)

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American Culture · American Literature · British Culture · British Literature · Classic · Collection · Excerpt · Imagism · Modernism · Nobel Prize in Literature (1948) · Passage · Poetry

T.S. Eliot

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

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