À la recherche du temps perdu//Sein und Zeit / January 25, 2025 by Nathan Jones View fullsize “But though I have fasted, wept, and prayed,Though I have a seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,I am no prophet—and here is no great matter;I have seen the moment of my greatness flickerAnd I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat and snicker,And in short, I was afraid. ” — T. S. Eliot in The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock (1917) “The glacier knocks in the cupboard,The desert sighs in the bed,And the crack in the teacup opensA lane to the land of the dead.” — W. H. Auden in As I walked out one evening (1937) “O sages standing in God’s holy fireAs in the gold mosaic of a wall,Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,And be the singing masters of my soul.Consume my heart away; sick with desireAnd fastened to a dying animalIt knows not what it is; and gather meInto the artifice of eternity.” — W. B. Yeats in Sailing to Byzantium (1928)