Someone said, 'The dead writers are remote from us because we know so much more than they did.' Precisely, and they are that which we know.
T. S. EliotWe have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us... and we drown.
T. S. Eliotand now you live dispersed on ribbon roads, And no man knows or cares who is his neighbor Unless his neighbor makes too much disturbance, But all dash to and fro in motor cars, Familiar with the roads and settled nowhere.
T. S. Eliot