The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap And seeing that it was a soft October night Curled once about the house, and fell asleep

Between the idea And the reality Between the motion And the act Falls the Shadow

In a world of fugitives the one who stays home will seem to be running away

Oh, do not ask, 'What is it?'/Let us go and make our visit.

Talent imitates, genius steals.

Time present and time past Are both perhaps present in time future, And time future contained in time past. If all time is eternally present All time is unredeemable.

Most of the trouble in the world is caused by people wanting to be important.