It is just the literature that we read for ‘amusement’ or ‘purely for pleasure’ that may have the greatest, least suspected, earliest influence on us.
Our beginnings never know our ends.
And so each venture is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate.
We die to each other daily. What we know of other people is only our memory of the moments during which we knew them. And they have changed since then.
And I hope we can contrive his future happiness. Do not discuss his absence. Please behave only As if nothing had happened in the last eight years.
Lady of silences Calm and distressed Torn and most whole Rose of memory Rose of forgetfulness Exhausted and life-giving Worried reposeful The single Rose Is now the Garden Where all loves end Terminate torment Of love unsatisfied The greater torment Of love satisfied End of the endless Journey to no end Conclusion of all that Is inconclusible Speech without word and Word of no speech Grace to the Mother For the Garden Where all love ends.
O you who turn the wheel and look to windward, 320 Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.
There is no water, so things are bad. If there were water, it would be better. But there is no water.
Why speak of love? We were used to each other.
There are evil neighborhoods of noise and evil neighborhoods of silence, and Eeldrop and Appleplex preferred the latter, as being the more evil. It.
You have gone through life in sleep, Never woken to the nightmare. I tell you, life would be unendurable If you were wide awake.
Without Christianity we might, of course, merely sink into an apathetic decline.
Because the particular has no language. One thinks to escape.
Ah, my friend, you do not know, you do not know What life is, you who hold it in your hands”;.
The suburban evening was grey and yellow on Sunday; the gardens of the small houses to left and right were rank with ivy and tall grass and lilac bushes; the tropical South London verdure was dusty above and mouldy below; the tepid air swarmed with flies. Eeldrop, at the window, welcomed the smoky smell of lilac, the gramaphones, the choir of the Baptist chapel, and the sight of three small girls playing cards on the steps of the police station.
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;.
I have saved this afternoon for you.
Do I dare to eat a peach?
They don’t understand what it is to be awake, To be living on several planes at once Though one cannot speak with several voices at once.
Who is the third who walks always beside you? 360 When I count, there are only you and I together But when I look ahead up the white road There is always another one walking beside you Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded I do not know whether a man or a woman – But who is that on the other side of you?