“I think we are in rats’ alley Where the dead men lost their bones.”
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Author detail
Thomas Stearns Eliot was an American poet, playwright, and literary critic, arguably the most important English-language poet of the 20th century.[3] His first notable publication, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, begun in February 1910 and published in Chicago in June 1915, is regarded as a masterpiece of the modernist movement.[4] It was followed by some of the best-known poems in the English language, including Gerontion (1920), The Waste Land (1922), The Hollow Men (1925), Ash Wednesday (1930), Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats (1939), and Four Quartets (1945). He is also known for his seven plays, particularly Murder in the Cathedral (1935) and The Cocktail Party (1949). He was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature and the Order of Merit in 1948. ([Source][1].) [1]:https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/T._S._Eliot
Quotes
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“I think we are in rats’ alley Where the dead men lost their bones.”
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“Poetry may make us from time to time a little more aware of the deeper, unnamed feelings which form the substratum of our being, to which we rarely penetrate; for our lives are mostly a cons...”
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“Till Human voices wake us, and we drown.”
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“Honest criticism and sensible appreciation are directed not upon the poet but upon the poetry.”
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“The Pekes and the Pollicles, everyone knows, Are proud and implacable, passionate foes; It is always the same, wherever one goes. And the Pugs and the Poms, although most people say that the...”
“As she laughed I was aware of becoming involved in her laughter and being part of it, until her teeth were only accidental stars with a talent for squad-drill.”
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“Think neither fear nor courage saves us. Unnatural vices are fathered by our heroism. Virtues are forced upon us by our impudent crimes. These tears are shaken from the wrath-bearing tree.”
“There is shadow under this red rock // (Come in under the shadow of this red rock) // And I will show you something different from either // Your shadow at morning striding behind you // Or...”
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“Unreal City, Under the brown fog of a winter dawn, A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many, I had not thought death had undone so many. Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled, And each...”
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“The dream crossed twilight between birth and dying.”
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“Unreal City, Under the brown fog of a winter dawn, A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many, I had not thought death had undone so many.”
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“The very existence of libraries affords the best evidence that we may yet have hope for the future of man”
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“ঐ নিয়ন্তা হাতটির ইশারায় বসেছি তখন সে-তটে মৎস্য-শিকারে রত, পশ্চাতে বিরান তেপান্তর আমার জমি কি নেব না গুছিয়ে আমি অন্ততঃ? লন্ডন ব্রিজ ভেঙে প’ড়ে যায় ভেঙে প’ড়ে যায় ভেঙে প’ড়ে যায় সে সেই অনলে লুকাল...”
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“Some editors are failed writers, but so are most writers.”
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“A prose that is altogether alive demands something of the reader that the ordinary novel reader is not prepared to give.”
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“Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal; bad poets deface what they take, and good poets make it into something better, or at least something different.”
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“Destiny waits in the hand of god, shaping the still unshapen..”
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“We die to each other daily. What we know of other people is only our memory of the moments during which we knew them. And they have changed since then. To pretend that they and we are the sa...”
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“There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and...”
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“Time present and time past Are both perhaps present in time future And time future contained in time past. If all time is eternally present All time is unredeemable. What might have been is...”
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