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We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.
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Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go.
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What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow, Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, You cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And the dry stone no sound of water. Only There is shadow under this red rock, (Come in under the shadow of this red rock), 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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In a minute there is time for decisons and revisions which a minute will reverse.
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This form, this face, this life Living to live in a world of time beyond me; let me...
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