Michael Mahoney - paintings


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            And so each venture

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 been discovered


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, under conditions


That seem unpropitious…

 

T. S. Eliot, ‘East Coker’, Four Quartets


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