Beats like a fatalistic drum,
And through the spaces of the dark Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium.
‘Rhapsody on a Windy Night’ (1917)
Where is the Life we have lost in living?
Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge? Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?
‘The Rock’ (1934) pt. 1
And the wind shall say: ‘Here were decent godless people: Their only monument the asphalt road
And a thousand lost golf balls.’
‘The Rock’ (1934) pt. 1
Birth, and copulation, and death.
That’s all the facts when you come to brass tacks: Birth, and copulation, and death.
I’ve been born, and once is enough.
‘Sweeney Agonistes’ (1932) ‘Fragment of an Agon’
Any man has to, needs to, wants to Once in a lifetime, do a girl in.
‘Sweeney Agonistes’ (1932) ‘Fragment of an Agon’
I gotta use words when I talk to you.
‘Sweeney Agonistes’ (1932) ‘Fragment of an Agon’
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.
‘Sweeney among the Nightingales’ (1919)
April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain. Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers.
‘The Waste Land’ (1922) pt. 1
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.
‘The Waste Land’ (1922) pt. 1
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.
‘The Waste Land’ (1922) pt. 1.
Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante, Had a bad cold, nevertheless
Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe, With a wicked pack of cards.
‘The Waste Land’ (1922) pt. 1
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.
‘The Waste Land’ (1922) pt. 1
The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne, Glowed on the marble.
‘The Waste Land’ (1922) pt. 2.
And still she cried, and still the world pursues, ‘Jug Jug’ to dirty ears.
‘The Waste Land’ (1922) pt. 2
I think we are in rats’ alley
Where the dead men lost their bones.
‘Waste Land’ (1922) pt. 2
O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag— It’s so elegant
So intelligent.
‘The Waste Land’ (1922) pt. 2.
Hurry up please it’s time.
‘The Waste Land’ (1922) pt. 2
But at my back from time to time I hear
The sound of horns and motors, which shall bring Sweeney to Mrs Porter in the spring.
O the moon shone bright on Mrs Porter
And on her daughter
They wash their feet in soda water.
‘The Waste Land’ (1922) pt. 3.
At the violet hour, when the eyes and back
Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits Like a taxi throbbing waiting,
I, Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives, Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see
At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea,
The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights Her stove, and lays out food in tins.
‘The Waste Land’ (1922) pt. 3
I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled dugs Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest— I too awaited the expected guest.
He, the young man carbuncular, arrives,
A small house agent’s clerk, with one bold stare, One of the low on whom assurance sits
As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire.
‘The Waste Land’ (1922) pt. 3
When lovely woman stoops to folly and Paces about her room again, alone,
She smoothes her hair with automatic hand, And puts a record on the gramophone.
‘The Waste Land’ (1922) pt. 3.
Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead, Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell And the profit and loss.
‘The Waste Land’ (1922) pt. 4
Who is the third who walks always beside you? When I count, there are only you and I together But when I look ahead up the white road
There is always another one walking beside you.
‘The Waste Land’ (1922) pt. 5
A woman drew her long black hair out tight And fiddled whisper music on those strings And bats with baby faces in the violet light Whistled.
‘The Waste Land’ (1922) pt. 5
These fragments I have shored against my ruins.
‘The Waste Land’ (1922) pt. 5
Webster was much possessed by death And saw the skull beneath the skin; And breastless creatures underground Leaned backward with a lipless grin.
‘Whispers of Immortality’ (1919)
Grishkin is nice: her Russian eye Is underlined for emphasis; Uncorseted, her friendly bust Gives promise of pneumatic bliss.
‘Whispers of Immortality’ (1919)
We know too much and are convinced of too little. Our literature is a substitute for religion, and so is our religion.
‘A Dialogue on Dramatic Poetry’ (1928)
Comparison and analysis are the chief tools of the critic.
‘The Function of Criticism’ (1925)
In the seventeenth century a dissociation of sensibility set in, from which we have never recovered; and this dissociation, as is natural, was due to the influence of the two most powerful poets of the century, Milton and Dryden.
‘The Metaphysical Poets’ (1921)
Poets in our civilization, as it exists at present, must be difficult.
‘The Metaphysical Poets’ (1921)
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.
‘The Sacred Wood’ (1920) ‘Hamlet and his Problems’
Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal.
‘The Sacred Wood’ (1920) ‘Philip Massinger’
Someone said: ‘The dead writers are remote from us because we know so much more than they did.’ Precisely, and they are that which we know.
‘The Sacred Wood’ (1920) ‘Tradition and Individual Talent’
Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.
‘The Sacred Wood’ (1920) ‘Tradition and Individual Talent’
To me...[The Wasteland] was only the relief of a personal and wholly insignificant grouse against life; it is just a piece of rhythmical grumbling.
‘The Wasteland’ (ed. Valerie Eliot, 1971) epigraph
5.23 Queen Elizabeth I 1533-1603
I am your anointed Queen. I will never be by violence constrained to do anything. I thank God that I am endued with such qualities that if I were turned out of the Realm in my petticoat, I were able to live in any place in Christome.
Speech to Members of Parliament, 5 November 1566, in J. E. Neale ‘Elizabeth I and her Parliaments 15591581’ (1953) pt. 3, ch. 1
As for me, I see no such great cause why I should either be fond to live or fear to die. I have had good experience of this world, and I know what it is to be a subject and what to be a sovereign. Good neighbours I have had, and I have met with bad: and in trust I have found treason.
Speech to Parliament, 1586, in William Camden ‘Annales rerum anglicanum’ (1615) bk. 3
I know I have the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and of a king of England too; and think foul scorn that Parma or Spain, or any prince of Europe, should dare to invade the borders of my realm.
Speech to the troops at Tilbury on the approach of the Armada, 1588, in Lord Somers ‘A Third Collection of Scarce and Valuable Tracts’ (1751) p. 196
Though God hath raised me high, yet this I count the glory of my crown: that I have reigned with your loves.
The Golden Speech, 1601, in ‘The Journals of All the Parliaments During the Reign of Queen Elizabeth’...
Collected by Sir Simonds D’Ewes (1682) p. 659
Like strawberry wives, that laid two or three great strawberries at the mouth of their pot, and all the rest were little ones.
Describing the tactics of the Commission of Sales, in their dealings with her, in Francis Bacon ‘Apophthegms New and Old’ (1625) no. 54
Good-morning, gentlemen both.
To a delegation of eighteen tailors, in F. Chamberlin ‘The Sayings of Queen Elizabeth’ (1923) p. 28. ‘Concise Oxford Dictionary of Proverbs’ ‘Nine tailors make a man’ under nine
I will make you shorter by the head.
To the leaders of her Council, who were opposing her course towards Mary Queen of Scots, in F. Chamberlin ‘The Sayings of Queen Elizabeth’ (1923) p. 224
’Twas God the word that spake it, He took the bread and brake it; And what the word did make it; That I believe, and take it.
Answer on being asked her opinion of Christ’s presence in the Sacrament, in S. Clarke ‘The Marrow of Ecclesiastical History’ (1675) pt. 2, bk. 1 ‘The Life of Queen Elizabeth’ p. 94
If thy heart fails thee, climb not at all.
Lines after Sir Walter Ralegh, written on a window-pane: Thomas Fuller ‘Worthies of England’ vol. 1, p. 419.
Must! Is must a word to be addressed to princes? Little man, little man! thy father, if he had been alive, durst not have used that word.
To Robert Cecil, on his advising her she must go to bed, in J. R. Green ‘A Short History of the English
People’ (1874) ch. 7; ‘Dodd’s Church History of England’ vol. 3 (ed. M. A. Tierney, 1840) adds: ‘but thou knowest I must die, and that maketh thee so presumptuous’
Madam I may not call you; mistress I am ashamed to call you; and so I know not what to call you; but howsoever, I thank you.
To the wife of the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Queen not approving of married clergy, in Sir John Harington ‘A Brief View of the State of the Church of England’ (1653) p. 4
God may pardon you, but I never can.
To the dying Countess of Nottingham, in David Hume ‘The History of England under the House of Tudor’ (1759) vol. 2, ch. 7
The queen of Scots is this day leichter of a fair son, and I am but a barren stock.
To her ladies. ‘The Memoirs of Sir James Melville’ (1683) p. 70
My Lord, I had forgot the fart.
In ‘Oxford Book of Political Anecdotes’
The daughter of debate, that eke discord doth sow.
On Mary Queen of Scots in George Puttenham (ed.) ‘The Art of English Poesie’ (1589) bk. 3, ch. 20
Anger makes dull men witty, but it keeps them poor.
To Sir Edward Dyer, in T. Tenison (ed.) ‘Baconiana’ (1679) Apophthegm 5
Semper eadem.
Ever the same.
Motto
I would not open windows into men’s souls.
??
All my possessions for a moment of time.
Last words
5.24 Queen Elizabeth II 1926—
I declare before you all that my whole life, whether it be long or short, shall be devoted to your service and the service of our great Imperial family to which we all belong.
Broadcast speech (as Princess Elizabeth) to the Commonwealth from Cape Town, 21 April 1947, in ‘The Times’ 22 April 1947
I think everybody really will concede that on this, of all days, I should begin my speech with the words ‘My husband and I’.
Speech at Guildhall, London, on her 25th wedding anniversary, 20 November 1972, in ‘The Times’ 21 November 1972
5.25 Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother 1900—
I’m glad we’ve been bombed. It makes me feel I can look the East End in the face.
To a policeman, 13 September 1940, in John Wheeler-Bennett ‘King George VI’ (1958) pt. 3, ch. 6
How small and selfish sorrow is. But it bangs one about until one is senseless.
Letter to Edith Sitwell, seven months after the death of George VI, in Penelope Mortimer ‘Queen Elizabeth’ (1986
The children won’t leave without me; I shan’t leave without the king; and the king will never leave.
On the suggestion that the royal family be evacuated during the Blitz
5.26 Alf Ellerton
Belgium put the kibosh on the Kaiser.
Title of song (1914)
5.27 John Ellerton 1826-93
The day Thou gavest, Lord, is ended, The darkness falls at Thy behest.
To Thee our morning hymns ascended, Thy praise shall sanctify our rest.
Hymn (1870) in ‘A Liturgy for Missionary Meetings’ (1871), the first line being borrowed from an earlier, anonymous hymn
This is the day of prayer:
Let earth to Heav’n draw near;
Lift up our hearts to seek Thee there, Come down to meet us here.
‘This is the day of light’ (1867 hymn)
5.28 Jane Elliot 1727-1805
I’ve heard them lilting, at the ewe milking. Lasses a’ lilting, before dawn of day;
But now they are moaning, on ilka green loaning; The flowers of the forest are a’ wede away.
‘The Flowers of the Forest’ (1769) the most popular version of the traditional lament for Flodden
5.29 Charlotte Elliott 1789-1871
‘Christian! seek not yet repose,’ Hear thy guardian angel say; Thou art in the midst of foes— ‘Watch and pray.’
‘Morning and Evening Hymns’ (1836) ‘Christian! seek not yet repose’
Just as I am, without one plea
But that Thy blood was shed for me, And that Thou bidd’st me come to Thee, O Lamb of God, I come!
‘Invalid’s Hymn Book’ (1834) ‘Just as I am’
5.30 Ebenezer Elliott 1781-1849
What is a communist? One who hath yearnings For equal division of unequal earnings.
‘More Verse and Prose’ (1850) ‘Epigram’
When wilt thou save the people? Oh, God of Mercy! when?
The people, Lord, the people! Not thrones and crowns, but men!
‘More Verse and Prose’ (1850) ‘The People’s Anthem’
5.31 George Ellis 1753-1815
Snowy, Flowy, Blowy,
Showery, Flowery, Bowery,
Hoppy, Croppy, Droppy,
Breezy, Sneezy, Freezy.
‘The Twelve Months’
5.32 Havelock Ellis (Henry Havelock Ellis) 1859-1939
What we call ‘progress’ is the exchange of one nuisance for another nuisance.
‘Impressions and Comments’ (1914) 31 July 1912
All civilization has from time to time become a thin crust over a volcano of revolution.
‘Little Essays of Love and Virtue’ (1922) ch. 7
5.33 Elstow
With thanks to God we know the way to heaven, to be as ready by water as by land, and therefore we care not which way we go.
When threatened with drowning by Henry VIII, in John Stow ‘The Annals of England’ (1615) p. 543.
5.34 Paul Eluard 1895-1952
Adieu tristesse Bonjour tristesse
Tu es inscrite dans les lignes du plafond.
Farewell sadness Good-day sadness You are inscribed in the lines of the ceiling.
‘A peine dèfigurèe’ (1932)
5.35 Ralph Waldo Emerson 1803-82
If the red slayer think he slays, Or if the slain think he is slain,
They know not well the subtle ways I keep, and pass, and turn again.
‘Brahma’ (1867)
I am the doubter and the doubt,
And I the hymn the Brahmin sings.
‘Brahma’ (1867)
By the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood, And fired the shot heard round the world.
‘Hymn Sung at the Completion of the Concord Monument’ 19 April 1836
Good-bye, proud world! I’m going home: Thou art not my friend, and I’m not thine.
‘Good-bye’ (1847)
Things are in the saddle, And ride mankind.
‘Ode’ Inscribed to W. H. Channing (1847)
I like a church; I like a cowl; I love a prophet of the soul;
And on my heart monastic aisles
Fall like sweet strains, or pensive smiles; Yet not for all his faith can see,
Would I that cowléd churchman be.
‘The Problem’ (1847)
He builded better than he knew;— The conscious stone to beauty grew.
‘The Problem’ (1847)
The frolic architecture of the snow.
‘The Snowstorm’ (1847)
Wilt thou seal up the avenues of ill? Pay every debt, as if God wrote the bill.
‘Solution’ (1847)
So nigh is grandeur to our dust, So near is God to man,
When Duty whispers low, Thou must,
The youth replies, I can.
‘Voluntaries’ no. 3 (1867)
Make yourself necessary to someone.
‘The Conduct of Life’ (1860) ‘Considerations by the way’
All sensible people are selfish, and nature is tugging at every contract to make the terms of it fair.
‘The Conduct of Life’ (1860) ‘Considerations by the way’
Art is a jealous mistress.
‘The Conduct of Life’ (1860) ‘Wealth’
The louder he talked of his honour, the faster we counted our spoons.
‘The Conduct of Life’ (1860) ‘Worship’.
I feel, in regard to this aged England...that she sees a little better on a cloudy day, and that, in storm of battle and calamity, she has a secret vigour and a pulse like a cannon.
‘English Traits’ (1856) ‘Speech at Manchester’ (1847)
Beauty will not come at the call of a legislature...It will come, as always, unannounced, and spring up between the feet of brave and earnest men.
‘Essays’ (1841) ‘Art’
Conversation is a game of circles. In conversation we pluck up the termini which bound the common of silence on every side.
‘Essays’ (1841) ‘Circles’
People wish to be settled: only as far as they are unsettled is there any hope for them.
‘Essays’ (1841) ‘Circles’
Thou art to me a delicious torment.
‘Essays’ (1841) ‘Friendship’
A friend is a person with whom I may be sincere. Before him I may think aloud.
‘Essays’ (1841) ‘Friendship’
The only reward of virtue is virtue; the only way to have a friend is to be one.
‘Essays’ (1841) ‘Friendship’
We need books of this tart, cathartic virtue, more than books of political science or of private economy.
On Plutarch’s Lives, in ‘Essays’ (1841) ‘Heroism’
It was a high counsel that I once heard given to a young person, ‘Always do what you are afraid to do.’
‘Essays’ (1841) ‘Heroism’
There is properly no history; only biography.
‘Essays’ (1841) ‘History’.
The faith that stands on authority is not faith.
‘Essays’ (1841) ‘The Over-Soul’
In skating over thin ice, our safety is in our speed.
‘Essays’ (1841) ‘Prudence’
It is easy in the world to live after the world’s opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own.
‘Essays’ (1841) ‘Self-Reliance’
A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do.
‘Essays’ (1841) ‘Self-Reliance’
Is it so bad, then, to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and
