Words move, music moves Only in time; but that which is only living Can only die. Words, after speech, reach Into the silence. Only by the form, the pattern, Can words or music reach The stillness.

Those who say they give the public what it wants begin by underestimating public taste and end by debauching it.

Should I, after tea and cakes and ices, have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?

When lovely woman stoops to folly and Paces about her room again, alone, She smooths her hair with automatic hand, And puts a record on the gramophone.

In a mind charged with an eager purpose and an unfinished vindictiveness, there is no room for new feelings.

Where is all the knowledge we lost with information?

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.