I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some infinitely gentle
Infinitely suffering thing.
—T. S. Eliot, from “Preludes” lines 48-52 (1917)
I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some infinitely gentle
Infinitely suffering thing.
—T. S. Eliot, from “Preludes” lines 48-52 (1917)
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