What is this self-inside us, this silent observer, severe and speechless critic, who can terrorize us, and urge us onto futile activity, and in the end, judge us still more severely for the errors into which his own reproaches drove us?
T. S. EliotOf lovers whose bodies smell of each other Who think the same thoughts without need of speech
T. S. EliotThe overwhelming pressure of mediocrity, sluggish and indomitable as a glacier, will mitigate the most violent, and depress the most exalted revolution.
T. S. EliotWhere shall the word be found, where will the word / Resound? Not here, there is not enough silence.
T. S. Eliot