two things

First, from T.S. Eliot’s “4 Quartets,” in the fourth and final movement, Little Gidding; partly to remind myself that it’s O.K. to let old drafts (of blog posts and other scribblings, etc.) go unpublished, and why:

…And he: “I am not eager to rehearse
My thoughts and theory which you have forgotten.
These things have served their purpose: let them be.
So with your own, and pray they be forgiven
By others, as I pray you to forgive
Both bad and good. Last season’s fruit is eaten
And the fullfed beast shall kick the empty pail.
For last year’s words belong to last year’s language
And next year’s words await another voice. …

Second: Remember that time when I posted that quote from Thoreau not all that long ago, and followed it by a somewhat snarky comment stating that you could expect me to maybe not post that much on this blog this year and why? Yeah. Never mind. I’ve posted quite a bit since then, and sometimes multiple posts in one day. (Sorry to bombard you.) Apparently I live (or at least function) better when I’m doing writing (at least of some sort) on a semi-regular basis, anyway.



    1. Cool! I’ve wanted to read some of his essays but just haven’t gotten around to it yet…anything in particular you recommend?

      And he apparently inspires the Koreans, too. Came across possibly the most misplaced quote of my experience so far yesterday; on a Korean pizza box (I kid you not):

      “To communicate with Mars, converse with spirits,
      To report the behaviour of the sea monster,
      Describe the horoscope, haruspicate or scry,
      Observe disease in signatures, evoke
      Biography from the wrinkles of the palm
      And tragedy from fingers; release omens
      By sortilege, or tea leaves, riddle the inevitable
      With playing cards, fiddle with pentagrams
      Or barbituric acids, or dissect…all these are usual
      Pastimes and drugs, and features of the press…”

      And that was it. Very funny.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I wasn’t thinking of any essays in particular — I actually had his poetry in mind. Some of his poems have been very encouraging to me in how they communicate Eliot’s experience/feelings about himself and his writing (for example, this excerpt from the Four Quartets:
        “So here I am, in the middle way, having had twenty years—
        Twenty years largely wasted, the years of l’entre deux guerres
        Trying to use words, and every attempt
        Is a wholly new start, and a different kind of failure
        Because one has only learnt to get the better of words
        For the thing one no longer has to say, or the way in which
        One is no longer disposed to say it. And so each venture
        Is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate
        With shabby equipment always deteriorating
        In the general mess of imprecision of feeling,
        Undisciplined squads of emotion. And what there is to conquer
        By strength and submission, has already been discovered
        Once or twice, or several times, by men whom one cannot hope
        To emulate—but there is no competition—
        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.”


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