April is the cruellest month, breedingLilacs out of the dead land, mixingMemory out of desire, stirringDull roots with spring rain.Winter kept us warm, coveringEarth in a forgetful snow, feedingA little life with dried tubers.
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Childhood has no forebodings; but then, it is soothed by no memories of outlived sorrow
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The strongest principle of growth lies in the human choice.
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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.
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Most of us who turn to any subject we love remember some morning or evening hour when we got on a high stool to reach down an untried volume, or sat with parted lips listening to a new talker, or for very lack of books began to listen to the voices within, as the first traceable beginning of our love.
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Unreal city, Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,...
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The happiest women, like the happiest nations, have no history.
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Footfalls echo in the memory Down the passage which we did not take Towards the door we never opened Into the rose-garden. My words echo Thus, in your mind.
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The strongest principle of growth lies in human choice.
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In a minute there is time for decision and revisions that a minute will reverse.
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His honest, patronizing pride in the good-will and respect of everybody about him was a safeguard even against foolish romance, still more against a lower kind of folly.
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The sense of an entailed disadvantage -- the deformed foot doubtfully hidden by the shoe, makes a restlessly active spiritual yeast, and easily turns a self-centered, unloving nature into an Ishmaelite. But in the rarer sort, who presently see their own frustrated claim as one among a myriad, the inexorable sorrow takes the form of fellowship and makes the imagination tender.
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The time of the seasons and the constellations The time of milking and the time of harvest...
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And the wind shall say Here were decent godless people. Their only monument the asphalt road. And a thousand lost golf balls.
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There is much pain that is quite noiseless; and vibrations that make human agonies are often a mere whisper in the roar of hurrying existence. There are glances of hatred that stab and raise no cry of murder; robberies that leave man or woman for ever beggared of peace and joy, yet kept secret by the sufferer /committed to no sound except that of low moans in the night, seen in no writing except that made on the face by the slow months of suppressed anguish and early morning tears. Many an inherited sorrow that has marred a life has been breathed into no human ear.
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In the small circle of pain within the skull You still shall tramp and tread one endless round Of thought, to justify your action to yourselves, Weaving a fiction which unravels as you weave, Pacing forever in the hell of make-believe Which never is belief: this is your fate on earth And we must think no further of you.
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An election is coming. Universal peace is declared and the foxes have sincere interest in prolonging the lives of the poultry.
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Of a truth, Knowledge is power, but it is a power reined by scruple, having a conscience of what must be and what may be; whereas Ignorance is a blind giant who, let him but wax unbound, would make it a sport to seize the pillars that hold up the long-wrought fabric of human good, and turn all the places of joy as dark as a buried Babylon.
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So the lover must struggle for words.
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What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.
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Television is a medium of entertainment which permits millions of people to listen to the same joke at the same time, and yet remain lonesome
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If you aren't in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?
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What do we live for, if not to make life less difficult for each other?
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Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.
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Childhood has no forebodings, but then, it is soothed by no memories of outlived sorrow.
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We shall not cease from our exploration And at the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time
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Moving between the legs of tables and of chairs, rising or falling, grasping at kisses and toys, advancing boldly, sudden to take alarm, retreating to the corner of arm and knee, eager to be reassured, taking pleasure in the fragrant brilliance of the Christmas tree.
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A human life, I think, should be well rooted in some area of native land where it may get the love of tender kinship from the earth, for the labors men go forth to, for the sounds and accents that haunt it, for whatever will give that early home a familiar unmistakable difference amidst the future widening of knowledge. The best introduction to astronomy is to think of the nightly heavens as a little lot of stars belonging to one's own homestead.
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Immature poets imitate mature poets steal.
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Webster was much possessed by death And saw the skull beneath the skin;...
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