Sunday, September 25, 2016

Four Quartets






“We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.”




 



“Humankind cannot bear very much reality.”









“Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take, towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.”










“So here I am, in the middle way, having had twenty years-
Twenty years largely wasted, the years of l'entre deux guerres-
Trying to use words, and every attempt
Is a wholy new start, and a different kind of failure
Because one has only learnt to get the better of words
For the thing one no longer has to say, or the way in which
One is no longer disposed to say it. And so each venture
Is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate,
With shabby equipment always deteriorating
In the general mess of imprecision of feeling,
Undisciplined squads of emotion. And what there is to conquer
By strength and submission, has already been discovered
Once or twice, or several times, by men whom one cannot hope
To emulate - but there is no competition -
There is only the fight to recover what has been lost
And found and lost again and again: and now, under conditions
That seem unpropitious. But perhaps neither gain nor loss.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.” 






“In my end is my beginning.”
 
T.S. Eliot

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