Do I dare Disturb the universe? In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

So I find words I never thought to speakIn streets I never thought I should revisitWhen I left my body on a distant shore.

No poet, no artist of any art, has his complete meaning alone. His significance, his appreciation is the appreciation of his relation to the dead poets and artists. You cannot value him alone; you must set him, for contrast and comparison, among the dead.

Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.

This is the way the world endsNot with a bang but a whimper.

April is the cruelest month, breedinglilacs out of the dead land, mixingmemory and desire, stirringdull roots with spring rain.

Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood.

Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea.

We are the hollow menWe are the stuffed menLeaning togetherHeadpiece filled with straw. Alas!Our dried voices, whenWe whisper togetherAre quiet and meaninglessAs wind in dry grassOr rats' feet over broken glassIn our dry cellarShape without form, shade without colour,Paralysed force, gesture without motion;- The Hollow Men