@kennethamy,
kennethamy;157127 wrote:
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.
T.S. Eliot.
From Four Quartets
Old men ought to be explorers
Here and there doe snot matter
We must be still and still moving
Into anothers intensity
For a further union, a deeper communion
Through the dark cold and empty desolation,
The wave cry, the wind cry the vast waters
Of the petrel and the porpoise. In my end is my beginning.
I know this has little to do with the thread unless you think this describes what the philosopher immortality is.
Garlic and sapphires in the mud
Clot the bedded axle-tree.
The trilling wire in the blood
Sings below inveterate scars
Appeasing long forgotten wars.
The dance along the artery
The circulation of the lymph
Are figured in the drift of starts
Ascend to summer in th etree
In light upon the figured leaf
And hear upon th esodden floor
Below, the boarhound and the boar
Pursue this pattern as before
But reconciled among the stars.
---------- Post added 04-27-2010 at 05:55 PM ----------
kennethamy;157141 wrote:It is the final one of T.S. Eliot's, The Four Quartets. What I wrote was only an excerpt from the final section of "Little Gidding". You can get the entire work on Google (or Bing) and a lot of commentary. You don't need me to tell you about it-not that I know enough to do so, anyway. But Eliot was, perhaps the greatest of English poets of the 20th century, or in any century, (save Shakespeare).
20th century for sure.
---------- Post added 04-27-2010 at 05:58 PM ----------
platorepublic if you want a read that will make you smile 'Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats' is a cool read.