What is the cost of our ceaseless gasping, seeking, fumbling, and our unkept restlessness?
What is the cost of our ceaseless gasping, seeking, fumbling, and our unkept restlessness?
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Through the unknown, unremembered gate
When the last of earth left to discover
Is that which was the beginning;
At the source of the longest river
The voice of the hidden waterfall
And the children in the apple-tree
Not known, because not looked for
But heard, half-heard, in the stillness
Between two waves of the sea.
Quick now, here, now, always–
A condition of complete simplicity
(Costing not less than everything)
– Little Gidding
T. S. Eliot’s Four Quartets
What do the moments, the un-lived, unnoticed moments that would otherwise take our breath away wait to share with us? How else would we hold eternity in the palm of a hand?
