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Does Anyone Know any worthy T.S. Elliot quotes that most of us have not already considered?


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Dear Friends,

 

Why, after being born in Missouri, a place of misery, did Eliot finally die in London?

 

I mean, you might have thought that it would be a better story, the other way.

 

For example, he might have been born in London, and then, more logically, died of boredom in Missouri.

 

One thing I cannot agree with is what Eliot wrote,  "I hate university towns and university people, who are the same everywhere, with pregnant wives, sprawling children, many books and hideous pictures on the walls. Oxford is very pretty, but I don't like to be dead."

 

Strange as it might seem, I had always believed that Eliot was a Scotsman, just from the sound of this surname, and little else.

 

Eliot was parsimonious in his poetry, and wrote too few poems.

 

What are his best one-liners, do you think?

 

What do you think of The Waste Land?

 

    I. The Burial of the Dead

 

  April is the cruelest 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.

Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnberger See

With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,

And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,

And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.

Bin gar keine Russin, stamm’ aus Litauen, echt deutsch.

And when we were children, staying at the arch-duke’s,

My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled,

And I was frightened. He said, Marie,

Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.

In the mountains, there you feel free.

I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

 

Etc., etc., etc....

 

I would have copied the entire poem here, if it were not for the forum rule that we should not quote too many lines of any one thing, which I agree with.

Let's not fill up the forum with long quotes from poets such as T.S. Eliot.

 

When I was young, my teachers fed me poems about trees that actually looked like trees.

Not for me.

 

Why do teachers do things like this?

 

Concerning the Starnberger Sees:

 

image.jpeg.e038c8418a62c0379c3461ec1bfd2596.jpeg

 

I sometimes vish I ver therlt, during the hot season in Thailand, and even now.

Such a beautiful place, but only the second-most beautiful body of water.

 

Why was a poet from Missouri who died in London so taken with the Starnberger See?

 

And then, Eliot goes on:

 

Frisch weht der Wind

Der Heimat zu

Mein Irisch Kind,

Wo weilest du?

 

Using Google Translate:

 

The wind blows fresh

To the homeland

My Irish, child,

where are you staying

 

Why did Eliot from Missouri write part of his poem in German?

Anyone know?

 

Also, he is writing in German about an Irish child.

 

This poem is very confusing.

 

Admittedly, Eliot's poetry rings true to the ear.

However, maybe, when you think about his poetry, as a whole,

Then you begin to wonder some.

 

Elliot might be a Scottish name.

But, T.S. Eliot was from St. Louis, Missouri.

If you have ever been to St. Louis,

There is really nothing remarkable.

 

Better to go to Hannibal, Missouri and see Mark Twain.

Perhaps a better writer.

Maybe, a better poet.

 

"Humor is also a way of saying something serious"

T.S. Eliot

 

Regards,

Globule

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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It shows the sad state of education to which this forum has sunk that no-one else has responded, and a damning indictment of my own literacy that I cannot offer one.

 

Instead, I offer you this:

That an intellectual in heaven is so lonely is a more damning indictment of the moral rectitude of intellectuals than of the company one finds in heaven.

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16 minutes ago, StreetCowboy said:

It shows the sad state of education to which this forum has sunk that no-one else has responded,

Are you joking---60% of the respondents to GammaGlobulin posts--are GammaGlobulin........................:w00t:

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On 7/7/2022 at 8:56 PM, StreetCowboy said:

It shows the sad state of education to which this forum has sunk that no-one else has responded, and a damning indictment of my own literacy that I cannot offer one.

 

Instead, I offer you this:

That an intellectual in heaven is so lonely is a more damning indictment of the moral rectitude of intellectuals than of the company one finds in heaven.

Since you had to go and mention heaven, then I have to go and respond:

 

My idea of heaven would be to sit on the right hand of Lutwidge, while listening to this genius recite Jabbberwocky, a trillion or more times, until the end of time.  Pure heaven.

 

However, I fear this shall never happen.

Poor old Dodgson, although a worthy writer,

He, as we all know, entertained some interests,

Which, no doubt, have not found him up above.

Strumming his harp, together with his little angels.

 

He enjoyed, or may have enjoyed, his strumming while here.

We shall never know.

One should not speak ill of the dead, I guess.

 

Carroll's Jabberwocky begins like this:

 

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves,

      And the mome raths outgrabe.

 

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

      The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

      The frumious Bandersnatch!”

 

He took his vorpal sword in hand;

      Long time the manxome foe he sought—

So rested he by the Tumtum tree

      And stood awhile in thought.

 

And, as in uffish thought he stood,

      The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,

Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

      And burbled as it came!

 

One, two! One, two! And through and through

      The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

      He went galumphing back.

 

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

      Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”

      He chortled in his joy.

 

And, Sir, may I refrain...

 

He chortled in his joy....

 

This is what this forum is all about.

 

We are here in Thailand for fun and amusement.

And, we are here to do no harm.

 

Best to you, Sir.

 

Note: Did you ever recover your golden bicycle?

 

 

 

 

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Unfamiliar with TS, and after G'ing, can't say anything he wrote would be of interest to me.

 

I don't do poetry, and none of his plays stand out, as again, anything that would interest me.

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1 hour ago, KhunLA said:

Unfamiliar with TS, and after G'ing, can't say anything he wrote would be of interest to me.

 

I don't do poetry, and none of his plays stand out, as again, anything that would interest me.

Poetry is a game for old men, my friend.

 

Someday, when you are as old as I, poetry may become one of your only solaces,

Besides your nurse.

 

And, by then, my friend, may you be lucky enough to have the eyesight to read poetry, unaided.

 

Eyesight quickly deteriorates with age, for some.

May your eyesight and your acuity of thought last you until your final days.

 

I just wish you the best, my friend.

And, might I ask, do you wish me the same?

 

Truly?

 

 

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On 7/7/2022 at 2:56 PM, StreetCowboy said:

It shows the sad state of education to which this forum has sunk that no-one else has responded, and a damning indictment of my own literacy that I cannot offer one.

 

Instead, I offer you this:

That an intellectual in heaven is so lonely is a more damning indictment of the moral rectitude of intellectuals than of the company one finds in heaven.

I thought everybody knew:

 

“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"

 

or:

 

“At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,...."

 

I imagine many visited this largely aesthetically barren forum thinking the topic was about some cricketer, and "retired" in confusion.


 

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Know the name, that's about it.

Not much on poetry, the only line I relate to is:

 

"Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light." Dylan Thomas.

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1 hour ago, GammaGlobulin said:

Does anyone know why I changed 'T.S. Eliot' to 'T.S. Elliot' in the title of this topic?

 

Was it just on a whim?

 

Does anybody know?

Can I guess: you’re a dick and you want to know if we all are. O , your protector will be along in a minute I suppose.

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  • 2 weeks later...
On 7/18/2022 at 5:50 PM, mahtin said:

You are correct.

 

As we age, and as our eyesight changes, and without spectacles, our visual acuity deteriorates.

 

The way we measure resolution is usually done using parallel lines of close proximity.

We test to see if we can discriminate two close parallel lines as being separate. In practice, it gets more complicated than this.

 

However, you are correct in that the reason I typed two L's instead of one L is due to lack of resolving power of my eyebal when viewing the topic title with my unaided eye.

 

Also, the name Eliot has an I after the L which makes things more difficult.

 

Testing resolution in a microscope or telescope requires other measurements.

 

Here is a link where you can download test targets for testing resolution:  

 

https://www.thorlabs.com/newgrouppage9.cfm?objectgroup_id=4338

 

These test targets might not help with measuring spatial resolution of some optical systems and even the binary vision of the human eyebal.

 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spatial_resolution

 

 

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