This is one moment, / But know that another / Shall pierce you with a sudden painful joy.
Someone said, 'The dead writers are remote from us because we know so much more than they did.' Precisely, and they are that which we know.
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 attemptIs a wholy new start, and a different kind...
Now that the lilacs are in bloomShe has a bowl of lilacs in her room
He who was living is now deadWe who were living are now dyingWith a little patience.
Footsteps shuffled on the stair/Under the firelight, under the brush, her hair/Spread out in fiery points/Glowed into words, then would be savagely still.
Time past and time futurewhat might have been and what has beenpoint to one end, which is always present.
You say I am repeating Something I have said before. I shall say it again.Shall I say it agian? In order to arrive there,To arrive where you are, to get from where you are not,You must go by a way whe...
Where shall the word be found, where will the wordResound? Not here, there is not enough silence...
Knowledge of speech, but not of silence;Knowledge of words, and ignorance of the Word...Where is the Life we have lost in living?Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge?Where is the knowledge we...
I should have been a pair of ragged claws/ Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, and I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, and in short, I was afraid.
It seems that one ought to read in two ways: 1) because of a particular and personal interest, which makes the thing one's own, regardless of what other people think of the book 2) to a certain extent...
We ask only to be reassuredAbout the noises in the cellarAnd the window that should not have been open
The awful daring of a moment's surrender which an age of prudence can never retract.by this, and only this, we have existed.
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 saythat they do not like...
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought i...
My friend, blood shaking my heartThe awful daring of a moment’s surrenderWhich an age of prudence can never retractBy this, and this only, we have existedWhich is not to be found in our obituariesOr i...
I think we are in rats’ alley Where the dead men lost their bones.
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter; I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,And in short, I was afraid.