Time present and time past / are both perhaps present in time future.

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.

It is generally a feminine eye that first detects the moral deficiencies hidden under the 'dear deceit' of beauty.

Words move, music moves Only in time; but that which is only living Can only die. Words, after speech, reach Into the silence. Only by the form, the pattern, Can words or music reach The stillness.

Men dislike being awakened from their death in life.

The poet's mind is in fact a receptacle for seizing and storing up numberless feelings, phrases, images, which remain there until all the particles which can unite to form a new compound are present together.

...the still point in a turning world.