The last temptation is the greatest treason: to do the right deed for the wrong reason.

We ask only to be reassured About the noises in the cellar And the window that should not have been open

You do not know how much they mean to me, my friends, And how, how rare and strange it is, to find In a life composed so much, so much of odds and ends, (For indeed I do not love it ... you knew? you are not blind! How keen you are!) To find a friend who has these qualities, Who has, and gives Those qualities upon which friendship lives. How much it means that I say this to you- Without these friendships-life, what cauchemar!

At the violet hour, when the eyes and back Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits Like a taxi throbbing waiting I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives.

I can connect Nothing with nothing

The end is in the beginning.

Men dislike being awakened from their death in life.