W. H. Auden - The Age of Anxiety

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Sob, heavy world,
Sob as you spin
Mantled in mist, remote from the happy.

W. H. Auden

We would rather be ruined than changed
We would rather die in our dread
Than climb the cross of the moment
And let our illusions die.

W. H. Auden

Let us then
Consider rather the incessant Now of
The traveler through time, his tired mind
Biased towards bigness since his body must
Exaggerate to exist, possessed by hope...

W. H. Auden