Wait without hope, Eliot says, for hope would be hope for the wrong thing.
All day I tried to distinguish need from desire. Now, in the dark, I feel only bitter sadness for us, the builders, the planers of wood, because I have been looking steadily at these elms and seen the process that creates the writhing, stationary tree is torment, and have understood it will make no forms but twisted forms.
Now no matter, child, the name: Sorrow's springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for, It is Margaret you mourn for.
{cannot say or think what your spirit knows}
All the new thinking is about loss, In this it resembles all the old thinking.
Up above the angels are weeping. angels, braiding, dear heart.
Then it happened as the ark of the LORD came into the city of David that Michal the daughter of Saul looked out of the window and saw King David leaping and dancing before the LORD.
And you had been something of a cold front yourself lately.
You are my heart. a sentence and not a thing, two iambs.
stranger in a strange type face how shall I know you?
the woman I call maro does not, strictu sensu, exist. she is rather a composite...
