If I have not posted this before it would be in error. I first read this when I discovered Eliot in High School. Eliot's later work requires that you have lived long enough to have grief written in your bones. He notes, when this was recorded by the BBC:
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This morning is the first Sunday of not only the new church year but the new cycle of the lectionary. And I am in a kind of quarantine: I have been unwell and I do not want to share it with the congregation. So I am staying home, recovering. For some things are not meant to be shared.
