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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. Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.
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At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless; Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is.
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As she laughed I was aware of becoming involved in her laughter and being part of it, until her teeth were only accidental stars with a talent for squad-drill.
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To each individual the world will take on a different connotation of meaning-the important lies in the desire to search for an answer.
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To country people Cows are mild, And flee from any stick they throw; But Iām a timid town bred child, And all the cattle seem to know.
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To men of a certain type The suspicion that they are incapable of loving Is as disturbing to their self-esteem As, in cruder men, the fear of impotence.
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It seems just possible that a poem might happen to a very young man: but a poem is not poetry -That is a life.
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The historical sense involves a perception, not only of the pastness of the past, but of its presence
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When lovely woman stoops to folly and Paces about her room again, alone, She smooths her hair with automatic hand, And puts a record on the gramophone.
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But it seems that something has happened that has never happened before: though we know not just when, or why, or how, or where.
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Any religion is forever in danger of petrifaction into mere ritual and habit, though ritual and habit be essential to religion.
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Blessed sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit of the garden, Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood Teach us to care and not to care
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Stand on the highest pavement of the stair- Lean on a garden urn- Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair.
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Dear Mother, I am getting on nicely in my work at the bank, and like it ... I want to find out something about the science of money while I am at it; it is an extraordinarily interesting subject.
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Composing on the typewriter, I find that I am sloughing off all my long sentences which I used to dote upon. Short, staccato, like modern French prose. The typewriter makes for lucidity, but I am not sure that it encourages subtlety.
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Sister, mother And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea, Suffer me not to be separated And let my cry come unto Thee.
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In the room the women come and goTalking of Michelangelo.
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The endless cycle of idea and action, / Endless invention, endless experiment, / Brings knowledge of motion, but not of stillness; / Knowledge of speech, but not of silence; / Knowledge of words, and ignorance of The Word.
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When the day's hustle and bustle is done, Then the Gumbie Cat's work is but hardly begun.
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It is generally a feminine eye that first detects the moral deficiencies hidden under the 'dear deceit' of beauty.
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What have we to do but stand with empty hands and palms turned upwards in an age which advances progressively backwards?
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A good half of the effort of understanding what the Indian philosophers were after - and their subtleties make most of the great European philosophers look like schoolboys.
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The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter, It isn't just one of your holiday games; You may think at first I'm as mad as a hatter When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
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When the gods know that a god hath fallen, With this kindly feeling They do encourage him-- Be thou a god again and again.