not fare well, but fare forward

They don't understand what it is to be awake, / To be living on several planes at once / Though one cannot speak with several voices at once.

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.

Webster was much possessed by death And saw the skull beneath the skin.

We learn what poetry is - if we ever learn - by reading it.

There are flood and drought over the eyes and in the mouth, dead water and dead sand contending for the upper hand. The parched eviscerate soil gapes at the vanity of toil, laughs without mirth. This is the death of the earth.

It is in fact a part of the function of education to help us escape, not from our own time - for we are bound by that - but from the intellectual and emotional limitations of our time.