Zitate von Thomas Stearns Eliot

Informationen über Thomas Stearns Eliot

Dichter, Kritiker, "Das wüste Land", "Aschermittwoch", Nobelpreis für Literatur/1948 (England/USA, 1888 - 1965).

Thomas Stearns Eliot · Geburtsdatum · Sterbedatum

Thomas Stearns Eliot wäre heute 135 Jahre, 6 Monate, 29 Tage oder 49.518 Tage alt.

Geboren am 26.09.1888 in Saint Louis
Gestorben am 04.01.1965 in London
Sternzeichen: ♎ Waage

• Stand on the highest pavement of the stair- Lean on a garden urn- Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair.

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• Success is relative: It is what we can make of the mess we have made of things.

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• Tenants of the house, Thoughts of a dry brain in a dry season.

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• That was a way of putting it-not very satisfactory: A periphrastic study in a worn-out poetical fashion, Leaving one still with the intolerable wrestle With words and meanings. The poetry does not matter.

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• The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne, Glowed on the marble.

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• The hippopotamus's day Is passed in sleep; at night he hunts; God works in a mysterious way- The Church can feed and sleep at once.

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• The host with someone indistinct Converses at the door apart, The nightingales are singing near The Convent of the Sacred Heart, And sang within the bloody wood, When Agamemnon cried aloud, And let their liquid siftings fall To stain the stiff dishonoured shroud.

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• The houses are all gone under the sea. The dancers are all gone under the hill.

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• The last temptation is the greatest treason: To do the right deed for the wrong reason.

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• The number of people in possession of any criteria for discriminating between good and evil is very small.

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• The only way of expressing emotion in the form of art is by finding an 'objective correlative'; in other words, a set of objects, a situation, a chain of events which shall be the formula of that particular emotion; such that when the external facts, which must terminate in sensory experience, are given, the emotion is immediately evoked.

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• The winter evening settles down With smell of steaks in passageways. Six o'clock. The burnt-out ends of smoky days.

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• The wounded surgeon plies the steel That questions the distempered part; Beneath the bleeding hands we feel The sharp compassion of the healer's art Resolving the enigma of the fever chart.

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• The young feel tired at the end of an action; The old at the beginning.

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• These fragments I have shored against my ruins.

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• This is the way the world ends Not with a bang but a whimper.
  • Paul Catty spricht . . .

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• Time present and time past are both perhaps present in time future, and time future contained in time past.

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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 me . . . [The Waste Land] was only the relief of a personal and wholly insignificant grouse against life; it is just a piece of rhythmical grumbling.

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• Unreal City, Under the brown fog of a winter dawn, A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many, I had not thought death had undone so many. Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled, And each man fixed his eyes before his feet Flowed up the hill and down King William Street, To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.

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