Quotation by T.S. Eliot

In the small circle of pain within the skull
You still shall tramp and tread one endless round
Of thought, to justify your action to yourselves,
Weaving a fiction which unravels as you weave,
Pacing forever in the hell of make-believe
Which never is belief: this is your fate on earth
And we must think no further of you.
T.S. (Thomas Stearns) Eliot (1888–1965), Anglo-U.S. poet, critic. third priest, in Murder in the Cathedral, pt. 2 (1935).
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