A RAID ON THE INARTICULATE
And so each venture
Is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate.
So here I am, in the middle way, having had
twenty years -
Twenty years largely wasted, the years of
l'entre deux guerres -
Trying to use words, and every attempt
Is a wholly new start, and a different kind
Because one has only learnt to get the better
For the thing one no longer has to say, or
the way in which
One is no longer disposed to say it. And so
Is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate,
With shabby equipment always deteriorating
In the general mess of imprecision of feeling,
Undisciplined squads of emotion. And what
there is to conquer
By strength and submission, has already
Once or twice, or several times, by men whom
one cannot hope
To emulate - but there is no competition -
There is only the fight to recover
what has been lost
And found and lost again and again: and now,
That seem unpropitious. But perhaps neither
gain nor loss.
For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not
--T. S. Eliot
2. "There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and there is only one of you in all time. This expression is unique, and if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium; and be lost. The world will not have it.
It is not your business to determine how good it is, not how it compares with other expression. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You have to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open.
No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.”