T. S. Eliot has his say

Deep, cryptic poetry from 1944

For decades, Four Quartets by T. S. Eliot has been my favourite poem. If you’re seeking wisdom on the meaning of life, death, and lots more, give it a try. Even after dozens of readings, I’m far from fully understanding it, but that’s reality for you. Here are a few selections you may find helpful.

There is, it seems to us,
At best, only a limited value
In the knowledge derived from experience.
The knowledge imposes a pattern, and falsifies,
For the pattern is new in every moment,
And every moment is a new and shocking
Valuation of all we have been.

The only wisdom we can hope to acquire
Is the wisdom of humility. Humility is endless.

There is only the fight to recover what has been lost
And found and lost again and again: and now, under conditions
That seem unpropitious. But perhaps neither gain nor loss.
For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.

We must be still and still moving
Into another intensity
For a further union, a deeper communion
Through the dark cold and the empty desolation

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…
Quick now, here, now, always –
A condition of complete simplicity
(Costing not less than everything)