T. S. Eliot

Every moment is a fresh beginning.

The years between fifty and seventy are the hardest. You are always being asked to do more, and yet you are not decrepit enough to turn them down.

Saint and Martyr rule from the tomb.

At the violet hour, when the eyes and back
Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits
Like a taxi throbbing waiting,
I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives.