Hungry Hatred, Will Not Strive

Life Is Long Between The Desire And The Spasm.

People To Whom Nothing Has Ever Happened Cannot Understand The Unimportance Of Events.

We Know Too Much, And Are Convinced Of Too Little. Our Literature Is A Substitute For Religion, And So Is Our Religion.

Shape Without Form, Shade Without Color, Paralyzed Force, Gesture Without Motion; Those Who Have Crossed With Direct Eyes, To Death's Other Kingdom Remember Us-if At All-not As Lost Violent Souls, But Only As The Hollow Men The Stuffed Men.

As We Grow Older, The World Becomes Stranger, The Pattern More Complicated Of Dead And Living.