“April is the cruelest month.”
“And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you
I will show you fear in a handful of dust”
“What is that noise?”
“The awful daring of a moment's surrender which an age of prudence
can never retract.
by this, and only this, we have existed.”
“I have heard the key
Turn in the door once and turn once only
We think of the key, each in his prison
Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison”
“For you know only a heap of broken images”
T.S. Eliot