Бесплодная земля

Любой художественный вымысел должен содержать в себе философию, и любой философский труд должен быть художественным произведением

плоха та критика, которая является ничем иным, как выражением эмоций

В прошлом году ты закопал в саду мертвеца.
Дал ли он побеги? Будет ли нынче цвести?

Каждый в тюрьме своей думает о ключе
Каждый тюрьму себе строит думами о ключе

APRIL is the cruellest 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 Starnbergersee
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.

Для того чтобы любое впечатление вообще сохранилось, его нужно постоянно подпитывать новыми впечатлениями, оно должно обрести свое место в системе впечатлений

Я покажу тебе нечто иное,
Нежели тень твоя утром, что за тобою шагает,
Или тень твоя вечером, что встает пред тобою;
Я покажу тебе страх в горсти праха.

My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me. 'Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.
'What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
'I never know what you are thinking. Think.

Under the brown fog of a winter dawn, A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
I had not thought death had undone so many.
Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,
And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.

And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

• Кто ж он бок о бок с тобой?

Tiresias, although a mere spectator and not indeed a 'character', is yet the most important personage in the poem, uniting all the rest. Just as the one-eyed merchant, seller of currants, melts into the Phoenician Sailor, and the latter is not wholly distinct from Ferdinand Prince of Naples, so all the women are one woman, and the two sexes meet in Tiresias. What Tiresias sees, in fact, is the substance of the poem.

To another work of anthropology I am indebted in general, one which has influenced our generation profoundly; I mean The Golden Bough; I have used especially the two volumes Adonis, Attis, Osiris. Anyone who is acquainted with these works will immediately recognise in the poem certain references to vegetation ceremonies.

The river's tent is broken; the last fingers of leaf
Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind
Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed.
Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.
The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers,
Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends
Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed.

  Я покажу тебе ужас в пригоршне праха.