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Except for the point, the still point, There would be no dance, and there is only the dance
T. S. Eliot
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a mortal thing so to immortalize
Edmund Spenser
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What have we given?
My friend, blood shaking my heart
The awful daring of a moment's surrender
Which an age of prudence can never retract
By this, and this only, we have existed.
T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land
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Quod Me Nutrit Me Destruit.
Christopher Marlowe