Let us go...

«Let us go then, you and I,

When the evening is spread out against the sky

Like a patient etherised upon a table;

Let us go, throw certain half-deserted streets,

The muttering retreats

Of restless nights in one-night shep hotels

And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:

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.»

In T. S. Eliot,

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock