Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
The streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question...
Oh do not ask, "what is it?"
Let us go and make our visit.
"Prufrock" by T.S. Elliot
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