To arrive where you are, to get from where you are not / You must go by a way wherein there is no ecstasy.
T. S. EliotA woman drew her long black hair out tight, And fiddled whisper music on those strings, And bats with baby faces in the violet light Whistled, and beat their wings, And crawled head downward down a blackened wall.
T. S. EliotAll time is eternal, moving inexorably toward an end which we believe is a result of our actions, but over which our control is mere illusion.
T. S. Eliot