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Every experience is a paradox in that it means to be absolute, and yet is relative; in that it somehow always goes beyond itself and yet never escapes itself.
T.S. Eliot
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I count religion but a childish toy
And hold there is no sin but ignorance.
Christopher Marlowe, The Jew of Malta
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We ask only to be reassured
About the noises in the cellar
And the window that should not have been open
T.S. Eliot, The Family Reunion
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The ides of March are come.*
Soothsayer: Ay, Caesar; but not gone.