There is no feeling, except the extremes of fear and grief, that does not find relief in music.
T. S. EliotRead
A cold coming we had of it, Just the worst time of the year For a journey, and such a long journey: The ways deep and the weather sharp, The very dead of winter.
Interpretation
The quote reflects the challenges and hardships encountered during difficult journeys, metaphorically representing life’s struggles.
In this quote, T. S. Eliot conveys the notion that significant undertakings often come at inopportune times, when conditions are least favorable. The imagery of winter symbolizes obstacles and discomfort, suggesting that meaningful journeys or experiences may require endurance and resilience amid adversity.
In practice
This quote can be used during a motivational speech about overcoming life's adversities.
There is no feeling, except the extremes of fear and grief, that does not find relief in music.
Half of the harm that is done in this world is due to people who want to feel important. They don't mean to do harm. But the harm does not interest them.
I am an Anglo-Catholic in religion, a classicist in literature and a royalist in politics.
If you aren't in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?
For I have known them all already, known them all— Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.
In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing
A businessman cannot force you to buy his product; if he makes a mistake, he suffers the consequences; if he fails, he takes the loss. If bureaucrat makes a mistake, you suffer the consequences; if he fails, he passes the loss on to you.
The personal vocabulary, the individual melody whose metre is one's biography, joins in that sound, with any luck, and the body moves like a walking, a waking island.
Damn the great executives, the men of measured merriment, damn the men with careful smiles oh, damn their measured merriment.
I am for freedom of religion, and against all maneuvers to bring about a legal ascendency of one sect over another.
But truly, if I were not Alexander, I would be Diogenes.
To regret one’s own experiences is to arrest one’s own development. To deny one’s own experiences is to put a lie into the lips of one’s own life. It is no less than a denial of the soul.
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