There’s a whole world out there of wondrous things, and when I can’t think of a single image, dream a unique vision, where is there to go except outside myself, and into the exploratory depths of past and present thinkers, poets, artists lending me their perspectives, their feelings, their worlds. T. S .Eliot is a poet of rhythm, of verbage that is indecipherable at times, and simultaneously communicable. He speaks through pace, and pressure and beat. I remember reading ‘La Figlia che Piange’ as a young woman, and though the experience left me questioning the meaning behind the words, the overwhelming message of life, and love came over. He allows me to enter into his world, in a way that is beyond words, and that is very remarkable. I am enriched by his use of language, somehow more aware, whilst being unaware of what it is. I value that.
We shall not cease from exploration And in the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time. (T. S. Eliot)