For I have known them all already, known them all
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall
,Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways
Part of The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock - T.S. Eliot (1920)