The sea has many voices, many gods and many voices.

Fare forward, you who think that you are voyaging; you are not those who saw the harbour receding, or those who will disembark.

What will the spider do, Suspend its operations, will the weevil Delay?

Hieronymo's mad againe. Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata. Shantih shantih shantih

Webster was much possessed by death And saw the skull beneath the skin.

My words echo thus, in your mind #tseliot

Time past and time future what might have been and what has been point to one end, which is always present

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea / By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown / Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

I have lost my passion: why should I need to keep it Since what is kept must be adulterated? #poetry

The years between 50 and 70 are the hardest. You are always being asked to do more, and you are not yet decrepit enough to turn them down.

Une petite fille En guenilles Camarde Regarde Le directeur Du Spectateur Conservateur Et cr�ve d'amour.

Footfalls echo in the memory/Down the passage which we did not take/Towards the door we never opened/Into the rose-garden.

Here, the intersection of the timeless moment is England and nowhere. Never and always.

Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning, every poem an epitaph.

In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo.

On whatever sphere of being the mind of a man may be intent at the time of death

I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, And in short, I was afraid.

But when the voices shaken from the yew-tree drift away let the other yew be shaken and reply.

I am glad you have a Cat, but I do not believe it is So remarkable a cat as My Cat. My Cat is a Lilliecat Hubvously.

You let it flow from you, you let it flow, And youth is cruel, and has no remorse And smiles at situations which it cannot see.