When we read of human beings behaving in certain ways, with the approval of the author, who gives his benediction to this behavior by his attitude to… - T. S. Eliot

Someone said, 'The dead writers are remote from us because we know so much more than they did.' Precisely, and they are that which we know.

O you who turn the wheel and look to windward, Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap
And seeing that it was a soft October night
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep