T. S. Eliot wasn’t the only 20th-century poet fond of cheese, it seems. W. H. Auden wrote:

A poet’s hope: to be,
like some valley cheese,
local, but prized elsewhere.

This reminded me of a passage from the Bible, from which the common phrase, “a prophet without honor” comes (misquoted, as you can see):

Now it came to pass, when Jesus had finished these parables, that he departed from there. When He had come to His own country, He taught them in their synagogue, so that they were astonished and said,

karen christensen's corona typewriter on t s eliot's desk

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