T. S. Eliot Quote
Footfalls echo in the memoryDown the passage which we did not takeTowards the door we never openedInto the rose-garden.Time present and time pastAre both perhaps present in time futureAnd time future contained in time past. (I)What might have been and what has beenPoint to one end, which is always present.Footfalls echo in the memoryDown the passage which we did not takeTowards the door we never openedInto the rose-garden. My words echoThus, in your mind.But to what purposeDisturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leavesI do not know. (I)Go, go, go, said the bird: human kindCannot bear very much reality.What might have been and what has beenPoint to one end, which is always present.Go, said the bird, for the leaves were full of children,Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.Go, go, go, said the bird: human kindCannot bear very much reality.Time past and time futureWhat might have been and what has beenPoint to one end, which is always present. (I)At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is...At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,But neither arrest nor movement.And do not call it fixity,Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.I can only say, there we have been: but I cannot say whereAnd I cannot say, how long, for that is to place it in time. (II)All is always now.Time past and time futureAllow but a little consciousness.To be conscious is not to be in timeBut only in time can the moment in the rose-garden,The moment in the arbour where the rain beat,The moment in the draughty church at smokefallBe remembered; involved with past and future.Only through time time is conquered. (II)Words move, music movesOnly in time; but that which is only livingCan only die. Words, after speech, reachInto the silence. (V)Or say that the end precedes the beginning,And the end and the beginning were always thereBefore the beginning and after the end.And all is always now. Words strain,Crack and sometimes break, under the burden,Under the tension, slip, slide, perish,Will not stay still. (V)Desire itself is movementNot in itself desirable;Love is itself unmoving,Only the cause and end of movement,Timeless, and undesiringExcept in the aspect of timeCaught in the form of limitationBetween un-being and being. (V)
Footfalls echo in the memoryDown the passage which we did not takeTowards the door we never openedInto the rose-garden.Time present and time pastAre both perhaps present in time futureAnd time future contained in time past. (I)What might have been and what has beenPoint to one end, which is always present.Footfalls echo in the memoryDown the passage which we did not takeTowards the door we never openedInto the rose-garden. My words echoThus, in your mind.But to what purposeDisturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leavesI do not know. (I)Go, go, go, said the bird: human kindCannot bear very much reality.What might have been and what has beenPoint to one end, which is always present.Go, said the bird, for the leaves were full of children,Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.Go, go, go, said the bird: human kindCannot bear very much reality.Time past and time futureWhat might have been and what has beenPoint to one end, which is always present. (I)At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is...At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,But neither arrest nor movement.And do not call it fixity,Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.I can only say, there we have been: but I cannot say whereAnd I cannot say, how long, for that is to place it in time. (II)All is always now.Time past and time futureAllow but a little consciousness.To be conscious is not to be in timeBut only in time can the moment in the rose-garden,The moment in the arbour where the rain beat,The moment in the draughty church at smokefallBe remembered; involved with past and future.Only through time time is conquered. (II)Words move, music movesOnly in time; but that which is only livingCan only die. Words, after speech, reachInto the silence. (V)Or say that the end precedes the beginning,And the end and the beginning were always thereBefore the beginning and after the end.And all is always now. Words strain,Crack and sometimes break, under the burden,Under the tension, slip, slide, perish,Will not stay still. (V)Desire itself is movementNot in itself desirable;Love is itself unmoving,Only the cause and end of movement,Timeless, and undesiringExcept in the aspect of timeCaught in the form of limitationBetween un-being and being. (V)
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About T. S. Eliot
Born in St. Louis, Missouri, United States, to a prominent Boston Brahmin family, he moved to England in 1914 at the age of 25 and went on to settle, work, and marry there. He became a British subject in 1927 at the age of 39 and renounced his American citizenship.
Eliot first attracted widespread attention for "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" (1915), which, at the time of its publication, was considered outlandish. It was followed by The Waste Land (1922), "The Hollow Men" (1925), "Ash Wednesday" (1930), and Four Quartets (1943). He wrote seven plays, including Murder in the Cathedral (1935) and The Cocktail Party (1949). He was awarded the 1948 Nobel Prize in Literature "for his outstanding, pioneer contribution to present-day poetry".