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Hey CR,

I don't see Eliot's poetry as a treatise on love. 

Of course love - in human affairs and in theological affairs -  is turned over a great lot by Eliot but  it is subordinate to a controlling intellect with other wholly inward looking concerns.

For example I suggest that  the moment of gentle  personal address : "Your heart would have responded gaily"
is changed utterly by  "when invited, beating obedient to controlling hands"

I own to a blind spot with respect to the theologically driven melding of fire and love in the crowned knot of fire but I remain unconvinced that the faithful really can sort out Luke's Jesus with his fire he wishes were already burning. 

I will only start a shitfight about the status of the artist's life in discussion of works  if I mention Emily Hale but let me try an observation from the text that his representation of Celia Coplestone's death which he self censored ( the painting with ant bait idea ) suggests a remoteness from the dynamic of affection that I would respect more if he demanded the lines stayed in the play.

Cheers Pete




On 10/08/2013, at 10:01 AM, Chokh Raj wrote:

> Incidentally, a note that throbs through and through Eliot's poetry:
> 
> She turned away, but with the autumn weather	
> Compelled my imagination many days,	
> Many days and many hours:	
> Her hair over her arms and her arms full of flowers.	        20
> And I wonder how they should have been together!	
> I should have lost a gesture and a pose.	
> Sometimes these cogitations still amaze	
> The troubled midnight and the noon’s repose. 
> 
> ---
> 
> I would meet you upon this honestly.	
> I that was near your heart was removed therefrom	        55
> To lose beauty in terror, terror in inquisition.	
> I have lost my passion: why should I need to keep it	
> Since what is kept must be adulterated?	
> I have lost my sight, smell, hearing, taste and touch:	
> How should I use it for your closer contact? 
> 
> ---
> 
> “You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
> 	  35
> They called me the hyacinth girl.”	 
> —Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,	 
> Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not	 
> Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither	 
> Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,	  40
> Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
> 
> ---
> 
> Is it like this
> In death’s other kingdom
> Waking alone
> At the hour when we are
> Trembling with tenderness
> Lips that would kiss
> Form prayers to broken stone. 
> 
> The eyes are not here
> There are no eyes here
> In this valley of dying stars
> In this hollow valley
> This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
> 
> ---
> 
> Because I know that time is always time
> And place is always and only place
> And what is actual is actual only for one time
> And only for one place
> I rejoice that things are as they are and
> I renounce the blessèd face
> And renounce the voice
> Because I cannot hope to turn again
> 
> ---
> 
> Footfalls echo in the memory
> Down the passage which we did not take
> Towards the door we never opened
> Into the rose-garden. 
> 
> In fine, love and a progression on love, culminating in a note of union 
> of the human and the divine love: 
> 
> All manner of thing shall be well
> When the tongues of flame are in-folded
> Into the crowned knot of fire
> And the fire and the rose are one.
> 
> CR
> 
> 
> We must also keep in mind Eliot's later description of the poem as “the relief of a personal and wholly insignificant grouse against life … just a piece of rhythmical grumbling." It only confirms that the poem was essentially a lament on the loss of love. 
> 
> CR
> 
> From: Chokh Raj <[log in to unmask]>
> To: [log in to unmask] 
> Sent: Friday, August 9, 2013 12:58 PM
> Subject: Re: Eliot and WWI
> 
> PS - fructify life and redeem it in terms of divine love
> 
> CR
> 
> 
> Forgive my rushing in but I just wished to say that I'd concur with Tom. 
> 
> Just a word, vis-a-vis Tom's observations, about Dante's Inferno that keeps coming to my mind vis-a-vis TWL. Hell to Dante was, in effect, the absence of 'love' with all its attributes including those Eliot lists in What the Thunder Said: Datta (Surrender in love), Dayadhvam (the opposite of pride/ego), and  Damyata (Control). Eliot's wasteland is a waste essentially because it is devoid of love, and it is this alone (i.e. love) by which we //fructify life//.
> 
> CR  
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
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