And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells.
T.S. Eliot (1888 - 1965)
Source: The Waste Land, 1922, What the Thunder Said
Contributed by: Zaady
What we call the beginning Is often the end And to make an end Is to make a new beginning. The end is where we start from.
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, And in short, I was afraid.
Source: The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, 1917
We shall not cease from exploration and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive at what we started and know the place for the first time.
And I must borrow every changing shape To find expression.
Source: Portrait of a Lady, 1917, III
And I will show you something different from either Your shadow at morning striding behind you, Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
Source: The Waste Land
My life is light, waiting for the death wind, Like a feather on the back of my hand.
Webster was much possessed by death And saw the skull beneath the skin.
Source: Whispers of Immortality, 1920
In a minute there is time for decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
Here I am, an old man in a dry month, Being read to by a boy, waiting for rain.
Source: Gerontion, 1920
Copyright © 2015 Gaiam, Inc.