T. S. Eliot
(page 2)

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Anxiety is the hand maiden of creativity.

Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal.

Where there is no temple there shall be no homes.

So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.

Where is all the knowledge we lost with information?

It's strange that words are so inadequate. Yet, like the asthmatic struggling for breath, so the lover must struggle for words.

Let's not be narrow, nasty, and negative.

There is not a more repulsive spectacle than on old man who will not forsake the world, which has already forsaken him.

It is obvious that we can no more explain a passion to a person who has never experienced it than we can explain light to the blind.

Humankind cannot bear very much reality.

T. S. Eliot(page 2)