For last year's words belong to last year's language
And next year's words await another voice.

For last year's words belong to last year's language
And next year's words await another voice.
And to make an end is to make a beginning."

(Little Gidding)

For last year's words belong to last year's language and next year's words await another voice.

The tiger springs in the new year. Us he devours.

The communication of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living.

It's strange that words are so inadequate. Yet, like the asthmatic struggling for breath, so the lover must struggle for words.