There is no feeling, except the extremes of fear and grief, that does not find relief in music.
T. S. EliotRead
Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky
Interpretation
The quote reflects a sense of intimacy and shared experience in exploring the beauty of the world at dusk.
In this quote, T. S. Eliot invites someone to join him in a moment of reflection and connection as twilight descends. The imagery of the evening sky evokes a sense of wonder and contemplation, suggesting that intimate moments shared with another can reveal beauty and depth in the simplest experiences of life.
In practice
In a wedding speech, you might use this quote to highlight the beauty of shared moments.
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 allβ Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.
In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing
My tears are like the quiet drift of petals from some magic rose; and all my grief flows from the rift of unremembered skies and snows. I think that if I touched the earth, it would crumble; it is so sad and beautiful, so tremulously like a dream.
I saw the gooseflesh on my skin. I did not know what made it. I was not cold. Had a ghost passed over? No, it was the poetry.
And I will find some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,/ Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings.
In this particular tub, two knees jut up like icebergs, while minute brown hairs rise on arms and legs in a fringe of kelp; green soap navigates the tidal slosh of seas breaking on legendary beaches; in faith we shall board our imagined ship and wildly sail among sacred islands of the mad till death shatters the fabulous stars and makes us real.
America is a poem in our eyes; its ample geography dazzles the imagination, and it will not wait long for metres.
When I breathe,_x000D_ This sound in my chest_x000D_ Lonelier than the winter wind
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