Four Quartets

There is, it seems to us, At best, only a limited value In the knowledge derived from experience. The knowledge imposes a pattern, and falsifies, For the pattern is new in every moment And every moment is a new and shocking Valuation of all we have been.

Except for the point, the still point, There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.

We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time.

Do not let me hear Of the wisdom of old men, but rather of their folly, Their fear of fear and frenzy, their fear of possession, Of belonging to another, or to others, or to God. The only wisdom we can hope to acquire Is the wisdom of humility: humility is endless.

What we call the beginning is often the end And to make an end is to make a beginning.