Rate this quote:(0.00 / 0 votes)
April is the cruellest month, breedingLilacs out of the dead land, mixingMemory out of desire, stirringDull roots with spring rain.Winter kept us warm, coveringEarth in a forgetful snow, feedingA little life with dried tubers.
T. S. Eliot
British poet (born in the United States) who won the Nobel prize for literature; his plays are outstanding examples of modern verse drama (1888-1965)
All T. S. Eliot quotes | T. S. Eliot Books
Select another language: - Select -简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)Español (Spanish)日本語 (Japanese)Português (Portuguese)Deutsch (German)العربية (Arabic)Français (French)Русский (Russian)한국어 (Korean)עברית (Hebrew)Український (Ukrainian)Magyar (Hungarian)मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)Indonesia (Indonesian)Italiano (Italian)Türkçe (Turkish)ภาษาไทย (Thai)Čeština (Czech)Polski (Polish)Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)Românește (Romanian)Nederlands (Dutch)Ελληνικά (Greek)Latinum (Latin)Svenska (Swedish)Dansk (Danish)Suomi (Finnish)فارسی (Persian)ייִדיש (Yiddish)Norsk (Norwegian)
Please enter your email address:
"T. S. Eliot Quotes." Quotes.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2015. Web. 8 Oct. 2015. <http://www.quotes.net/quote/8689>.
Thanks for your vote! We truly appreciate your support.