He, too, must speak the Word everlasting. And over this resolve presides a woman who is nameless, faceless, known only in a series of subordinate clauses, ‘Who… / Who… ’, who walks with ‘the new years’, who restores his power to write ‘new verse’, and who bends her head in silent acceptance and gives the all-important sign that the Lord’s Word would come.
—from The Imperfect Life of T. S. Eliot by Lyndall Gordon (p 235).
…but Eliot was to draw on Bergson’s challenge to the technological artifice of clock-time which enforces the present and ignores the cumulative incursions of the past. Duration, the lived experience of Time, is subjective and continuous, not measured out in ticks and tocks. (To experience the even monotony of measured time— the ‘petty pace’ of Macbeth’s tomorrow’s— is the unspeakable torment of vacated souls.)
—The Imperfect Life of T. S. Eliot by Lyndall Gordon.