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

There is no method but to be very intelligent.

What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.

Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought.

After such knowledge, what forgiveness?

The winter evening settles down With smell of steaks in passageways. Six o'clock. The burnt-out ends of smoky days. And now a gusty shower wraps The grimy scraps Of withered leaves about your feet And newspapers from vacant lots; The showers beat On broken blinds and chimney-pots, And at the corner of the street A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps. And then the lighting of the lamps.

I gotta use words to talk to you.