If you came this way, Taking the route you would be likely to take From the place you would be likely to come from, If you came this way in May time, you would find the hedges White again, in May, with voluptuary sweetness. It would be the same at the end of the journey…If you came from anywhere, At any time or at any season, It would always be the same: you would have to put off Sense and notion. You are not here to verify, Instruct yourself, or inform curiosity Or carry report. You are here to kneel Where prayer has been valid…And what the dead can tell you, being dead: the communication Of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of living. Here, the intersection of the timeless moment Is…Never and always.

T. S. Eliot, The Four Quartets, from Little Gidding, 1.