There is no feeling, except the extremes of fear and grief, that does not find relief in music.
A woman drew her long black hair out tight, And fiddled whisper music on those strings, And bats with baby faces in the violet light Whistled, and beat their wings, And crawled head downward down a blackened wall.
Interpretation
What this quote means
The quote captures a surreal and artistic moment, merging beauty with the grotesque to convey a deeper emotional landscape.
This quote by T. S. Eliot evokes a vivid and unsettling image that blends elements of beauty and darkness. The woman drawing her hair tight and playing music suggests an intense focus on art and the creation process, while the imagery of bats with baby faces introduces a haunting juxtaposition of innocence and horror. The scene unfolds in a surreal, dreamlike atmosphere, inviting readers to explore the complexities and contradictions of life, art, and existence.
Themes
In practice
Example use cases
During an art exhibition, one might use this quote to evoke the intense, surreal emotions that art can inspire.
More from T. S. Eliot
All quotes βHalf of the harm that is done in this world is due to people who want to feel important. They don't mean to do harm. But the harm does not interest them.
I am an Anglo-Catholic in religion, a classicist in literature and a royalist in politics.
If you aren't in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?
For I have known them all already, known them allβ Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.
In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing
Similar quotes
Yes, I can play younger than my age. But I can play characters older than I am, too. I'm not an actor who can just play the kid.
If you don't live it, it won't come out your horn.
When done right, music should breathe, be alive. It's not about getting it perfect, it's about capturing lightning in a bottle.
I just make the music feel the way I want it to feel, and I don't put it out until I'm totally happy with it.
As Daenerys Targaryen rose to her feet, her black hissed, pale smoke venting from its mouth and nostrils. The other two pulled away from her breasts and added their voices to the call, translucent wings unfolding and stirring the air, and for the first time in hundreds of years, the night came alive with the music of dragons.
Don't worry about people stealing your design work. Worry about the day they stop.