remymartinia

remymartinia t1_j6ltodl wrote

I love T.S. Eliot.

Let us go then. You and I. When the evening is spread out against the sky. Like a patient etherized on a table.

Let us go through half-deserted streets, the muttering retreats Of one night (ugh, can’t remember!) Of sawdust restaurants and oyster shells?

Oh, do not ask, what is it Let us go and make our visit

In the room, the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo

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remymartinia t1_iyw1h2p wrote

I love the poem the title is from, too:

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43290/the-second-coming

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remymartinia t1_iw4n815 wrote

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