Four of the most beautiful and philosophical of Eliot’s poetry. I used to read these poems every year, but it has been a while. Very rewarding to read them again, and I see things in them for the first time, my life having changed so much in the last couple of years. Even so, Burnt Norton and The Dry Salvages are still my favorites. “There is no end of it, the voiceless wailing.” “ but this thing is sure,
That time is no healer”
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