Turning Wearily, as one would turn to nod goodbye to Rochefoucauld, If the street were time and he as the end of the street.
T.S. Eliot (1888 - 1965)
Source: The Boston Evening Transcript
Contributed by: Zaady
The hippopotamus's day Is passed in sleep; at night he hunts; God works in a mysterious way- The Church can sleep and feed at once.
Source: The Hippopotamus, 1920
Shape without form, shade without color, Paralyzed force, gesture without motion; Those who have crossed With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom Remember us-if at all-not as lost Violent souls, but only As the hollow men The stuffed men.
Source: The Hollow Men, 1925
I shall not want Honor in Heaven For I shall meet Sir Philip Sidney And have talk with Coriolanus And other heroes of that kidney.
Source: A Cooking Egg, 1920
Hurry up, please, its time.
Source: The Waste Land, 1922, The Game of Chess
I grow old . . . I grow old . . . I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Source: The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, 1917
Between the idea And the reality Between the motion And the act Falls the Shadow.
Source: the hollow men, 1925
Footfalls echo in the memory Down the passage which we did not take Towards the door we never opened Into the rose garden.
Source: Four Quartets
After such knowledge, what forgiveness? Think now History has many cunning passages, contrived corridors And issues, deceives with whispering ambitions Guides us by vanities.
Source: Gerontion, 1920
Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead, Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell And the profit and loss.
Source: The Waste Land, 1922, Death by Water
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