Hell is oneself, Hell is alone, the other figures in it Merely projections. T.S. Eliot

A condition of complete simplicity~ T.S. Eliot

In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. T.S. Eliot

The Nobel is a ticket to one's own funeral. No one has ever done anything after he got it. T.S. Eliot

Thoughts of a dry brain in a dry season. T.S. Eliot

Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
But merely vans to beat the air
The air which is now thoroughly small and dry
Smaller and dryer than the will
Teach us to care and not to care Teach us to sit still. T.S. Eliot

We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men Leaning together Headpiece filled with straw. Alas! T.S. Eliot

Eyes I dare not meet in dreams~ T.S. Eliot

In a world of fugitives The person taking the opposite direction Will appear to run away. T.S. Eliot

It's strange that words are so inadequate. Yet, like the asthmatic struggling for breath, so the lover must struggle for words. T.S. Eliot

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. T.S. Eliot

The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn’t just one of your holiday games; T.S. Eliot

Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky T.S. Eliot

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the windowpanes, The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the windowpanes T. S. Eliot

The tiger springs in the new year. Us he devours. T. S. Eliot

These fragments I have shored against my ruins T. S. Eliot

S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse a persona che mai tornasse al mondo, questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse. T. S. Eliot

Humankind cannot bear very much reality. T. S. Eliot

And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells: Streets that follow like a tedious argument Of insidious intent T. S. Eliot

~immediate compensation for the pains of turning blood into ink. As things are, and as fundamentally they must always be, poetry is not a career, but a mug's game. T. S. Eliot