He is haunted by a demon, a demon against which he feels powerless, because in its first manifestation it has no face, no name, nothing; and the words, the poem he makes, are a kind of exorcism of this demon.
T. S. EliotBecause I know that time is always time and place is always place and only place. And what is actual is actual only for one time. And only for one place. I rejoice that things are as they are.
T. S. EliotAny religion is forever in danger of petrifaction into mere ritual and habit, though ritual and habit be essential to religion.
T. S. Eliot