“ The October night comes down: returning as
before
Except for a slight sensation of being ill at ease
I mount the stairs and turn the handle of the door
And feel as if I had mounted on my hands and
knees.
‘And so you are going abroad; and when do you
return?
But that’s a useless question.
You hadly know when you are coming back,
You will find so much to learn.’
My smile falls heavily among the bric-à-brac.”
— From “Portrait of a Lady” by T.S. Eliot
