Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,I am no prophet–and here’s no great matter;I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,And in short, I was afraid.
― T.S. Eliot,
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock and Other Poems
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