☢ A Heap of Broken Images ☢

☢ A Heap of Broken Images ☢


What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

T.S. Eliot (1888–1965). The Waste Land. 1922 Get More Followers

  
Tumblr Themes



64 notes

reblog

Tumblr Themes



5 notes

reblog

Tumblr Themes



3 notes

reblog

Tumblr Themes



4 notes

reblog

Tumblr Themes



298 notes

reblog

Tumblr Themes



3 notes

reblog

Tumblr Themes



23 notes

reblog

Tumblr Themes



24 notes

reblog

Tumblr Themes



6 notes

reblog

Tumblr Themes



512 notes

reblog

Tumblr Themes



10 notes

reblog

Tumblr Themes



4 notes

reblog

Tumblr Themes



260 notes

reblog

Tumblr Themes



2 notes

reblog

Tumblr Themes



7 notes

reblog