T.S. Eliot

Since commencing literature studies here at Paris 3, I think I think differently.

I am different.

I am plus soutenue.

I am more aware of beauty.

The beauty of the written thought, of words and clever looks.

Marble, now has a heady attraction for me. I go to the Louvre as often as time permits me to trace the contours of these magnificent attestments to man's ability to imitate and create.

 I think that I'm more poetical: that my cup runneth over with expression and elegant weaving of words in the air like great clouds of the ever-intangible thought.

Feeling ever so poetical this evening, I thought that I would leave off with the elegant patter that is the words of T.S. Eliot.

Little Gidding

(No. 4 of 'Four Quartets), Part V

T.S. Eliot

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Through the unknown, unremembered gate
When the last of earth left to discover
Is that which was the beginning;
At the source of the longest river
The voice of the hidden waterfall
And the children in the apple-tree
Not known, because not looked for
But heard, half-heard, in the stillness
Between two waves of the sea.
Quick now, here, now, always—
A condition of complete simplicity
(Costing not less than everything)
And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well
When the tongues of flame are in-folded
Into the crowned knot of fire
And the fire and the rose are one.