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“April is the cruelest month.”
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“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”
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“What is that noise?”
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“The awful daring of a moment's surrender which an age of prudence
can never retract.
by this, and only this, we have existed.”
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“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”
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“For you know only a heap of broken images”
T.S. Eliot