Imge’s Reviews > Collected Poems, 1909-1962 > Status Update
Imge
is on page 85 of 221
The Hollow Men
“Shape without form, shade without color,
Paralyzed force, gesture without motion.”
The way he captures humanity in just a single line always blows my mind. So much of what we do becomes mechanical; empty of meaning, emotion, or impact. We’re stuck in a society that paralyzes us. We want to act, but because we’re only going through the motions, it all ends up feeling meaningless.
— Sep 01, 2025 04:26AM
“Shape without form, shade without color,
Paralyzed force, gesture without motion.”
The way he captures humanity in just a single line always blows my mind. So much of what we do becomes mechanical; empty of meaning, emotion, or impact. We’re stuck in a society that paralyzes us. We want to act, but because we’re only going through the motions, it all ends up feeling meaningless.
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Imge’s Previous Updates
Imge
is on page 183 of 221
Four Quartets/Burnt Norton
"...What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
...
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden."
It's such a brilliant and romantic way to evoke a sense of nostalgia, longing, and possibilities.
— Sep 05, 2025 03:33PM
"...What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
...
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden."
It's such a brilliant and romantic way to evoke a sense of nostalgia, longing, and possibilities.
Imge
is on page 95 of 221
Ash Wednesday
"Rose of memory
Rose of forgetfulness
Exhausted and life-giving
Worried reposeful
The single Rose
Is now the Garden"
— Sep 02, 2025 07:34AM
"Rose of memory
Rose of forgetfulness
Exhausted and life-giving
Worried reposeful
The single Rose
Is now the Garden"
Imge
is on page 29 of 221
Rhapsody on a Windy Night
Twelve o'clock.
Along the reaches of the street
Held in a lunar synthesis,
Whispering lunar incantations
Dissolve the floors of memory
And all its clear relations,
Its divisions and precisions,
Every street lamp that I pass
Beats like a fatalistic drum,
And through the spaces of the dark
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium.
— Mar 13, 2025 02:32PM
Twelve o'clock.
Along the reaches of the street
Held in a lunar synthesis,
Whispering lunar incantations
Dissolve the floors of memory
And all its clear relations,
Its divisions and precisions,
Every street lamp that I pass
Beats like a fatalistic drum,
And through the spaces of the dark
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium.
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow
Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow"