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/lit/ - Literature

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>> No.2444684 [View]
File: 25 KB, 356x474, tseliot2.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]
2444684

Hello,

I liked T. S. Eliot's poems. I did not feel the same about W. B. Yeats'.

Could anyone be so kind as to point me in another direction?

>> No.2283602 [View]
File: 25 KB, 356x474, tseliot2.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]
2283602

ITT:

Your favourite quote.
>Bonus: In one paragraph, explain it affects you.

Mine:
"We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time." - T. S. Elliot

>I find this profoundly philosophical and when I heard it it made perfect sense. Everytime I read it I think of Plato, and how all knowledge is inate and just needs to be unlocked - i.e. why they call it "research". Very profound and beautifully worded.

>> No.1705634 [View]
File: 25 KB, 356x474, t__s__eliot.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]
1705634

>>1705633

Oh, you. That was charming.

>> No.644235 [View]
File: 25 KB, 356x474, eliot.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]
644235

Ulysses: Approved by Eliot

>> No.572524 [View]
File: 25 KB, 356x474, eliot.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]
572524

Feel free to chill here man. Here, have a book.

>> No.565838 [View]
File: 25 KB, 356x474, eliot1.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]
565838

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
It is perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

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