We wait, we wait,
And the saints and martyrs wait, for those who shall be martyrs and saints.
Destiny waits in the hand of God, shaping the still unshapen:
I have seen these things in a shaft of sunlight.
Destiny waits in the hand of God, not in the hands of statesmen
Who do, some well, some ill, planning and guessing,
Having their aims which turn in their hands in the pattern of time.
There is shadow under this red rock // (Come in under the shadow of this red rock) // And I will show you something different from either // Your shadow at morning striding behind you // Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you // I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
T.S. EliotTag: fear death shadows dust waste-land
For he will do
As he do do
And there's no doing anything about it!
- The Rum Tum Tugger
Tag: cats willfullness
I can show you fear in a handful of dust
T.S. Eliotأقول لنفسي إبقي بلا حراك
وانتظري بلا أمل
فالأمل قد يكون تمنيًا
للشئ الخطأ
وانتظري بلا حب
فالحب قد يكون حبًا
للشئ الخطأ
هناك بعد إيمان
ولكن الإيمان والحب والأمل
كلها في الانتظار
انتظر
بلا فكر
لأنك غير معدّ للفكر
وهكذا سيكون الظلام هو النور
واللاحراك هو الرقص
Footfalls echo in the memory
down the passage we did not take
towards the door we never opened
into the rose garden. My words echo
thus, in your mind
Tag: memory
time past and time future
what might have been and what has been
point to one end, which is always present.
Aprile è il mese più crudele, genera
lillà da terra morta, confondendo
memoria e desiderio, risvegliando
le radici sopite con la pioggia della primavera.
Our second danger is to associate tradition with the immovable; to think of it as something hostile to all change; to aim to return to some previous condition which we imagine as having been capable of preservation in perpetuity, instead of aiming to stimulate the life which produced that condition in its time. . . . a tradition without intelligence is not worth having . . .
T.S. EliotBut above and beyond there's still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover--
But the cat himself knows, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.
Tag: cats t-s-eliot the-naming-of-cats
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