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T.S.Eliot

  • Eunice Banderashar citeretsidste år
    Therefore the man with heavy eyes

    Declines the gambit, shows fatigue,

    Leaves the room and reappears

    Outside the window, leaning in,
  • Rafael Narvalhar citeretsidste år
    I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
  • Rafael Narvalhar citeretsidste år
    I was neither
    Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
  • Николай Зубовhar citeretfor 2 år siden
    The broad-backed hippopotamus

    Rests on his belly in the mud;

    Although he seems so firm to us

    He is merely flesh and blood.

    Flesh-and-blood is weak and frail,

    Susceptible to nervous shock
  • Николай Зубовhar citeretfor 2 år siden
    The broad-backed hippopotamus

    Rests on his belly in the mud;

    Although he seems so firm to us

    He is merely flesh and blood.

    Flesh-and-blood is weak and frail,

    Susceptible to nervous shock;
  • Eunice Banderashar citeretfor 2 år siden
    I have not made this show purposelessly

    And it is not by any concitation

    Of the backward devils.

    I would meet you upon this honestly.

    I that was near your heart was removed therefrom

    To lose beauty in terror, terror in inquisition.

    I have lost my passion: why should I need to keep it

    Since what is kept must be adulterated?

    I have lost my sight, smell, hearing, taste and touch:

    How should I use it for your closer contact?
  • Eunice Banderashar citeretfor 2 år siden
    The smoky candle end of time

    Declines. On the Rialto once.

    The rats are underneath the piles.

    The jew is underneath the lot.

    Money in furs. The boatman smiles,
  • Eunice Banderashar citeretsidste år
    Tightening its lusts and luxuries.

    Donne, I suppose, was such another

    Who found no substitute for sense;

    To seize and clutch and penetrate,

    Expert beyond experience,

    He knew the anguish of the marrow

    The ague of the skeleton;

    No contact possible to flesh

    Allayed the fever of the bone.
  • Nikola Stajichar citeretsidste år
    I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
    For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love
    For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
    But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
    Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
    So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.
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